


Non Desistas, Non Exieris

by ad_astra42



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Action & Romance, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Biotics (Mass Effect), Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Pre-Mass Effect 1, Slow Romance, Turians, Vanguard (Mass Effect), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 137,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26572459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ad_astra42/pseuds/ad_astra42
Summary: An AU wherein a younger Shepard and Vakarian attend a novel Academy whose mission is to swell the ranks of the Spectres in the face of impending galactic strife.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, Macen Barro/Avitus Rix
Comments: 84
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

Astra Inclinant

Sed Non Obligant

Shepard had at one point entertained the conceit that she had the first idea of what to expect at the Academy. It took her all of a few hours to conclude that she hadn’t had a damn clue.

The Council Spectre Academy was beyond enormous. Multiple species had come together in its construction here on Cyone, and in the space of two years had erected a sprawling compound that was far larger and more elaborate than any military installation she had served on. Stations included, she’d wager. The on-site docking bay was a massive hanger that by her estimate could have nearly accommodated an Alliance cruiser. 

She hefted her footlocker and duffel from the storage compartment, waving off an offer of assistance from the shuttle pilot. Glancing about the close-packed shuttle stalls adjacent to her own, she marveled at the mass of other prospective Spectres similarly unloading. She hadn’t had any good intel on precisely how many other candidates would be in attendance, but just here in the hangar the number had to have been in the hundreds. Asari huntresses, turian soldiers, what looked to be former STG- she hadn’t been deluded enough to think this would be an easy undertaking, but seeing the competition firsthand was daunting even for her. She may have attained her N7 designation, but that had happened just under a year prior. 

She had only just offered a hand of thanks to the pilot when a salarian in a plain, dark grey jumpsuit swept up to her, datapad in hand. He didn’t bother to look at her.

“Human candidate Shepard?” his high-pitched voice was rapid and curt. She frowned and cleared her throat.

“Yeah. That’s m-”

“This way. You’re behind schedule, so if we could please hurry.”

Shepard slipped her duffel strap across her chest, hefting her locker over her back and falling into step behind him. She raised her forearm, activating her omnitool to re-check the email that detailed her schedule. She’d reread that same email more than once in the week since it had shown up in her inbox, and was all but certain he was entirely in the wrong. Sure enough, according to the text she was allegedly an hour or so early. While a dull ache of annoyance and jet lagged exhaustion flared to life in her forehead, she opted not to start an argument over the finer details of her punctuality with someone who in all likelihood didn’t care.

The main hall’s aesthetic called back to the architecture of the Citadel. She easily recognized the themes of that marvel of architectural engineering, regardless that she’d only seen it on shore leave a whole one time. That particular design choice was one thing that didn’t surprise her in the least, considering the entire point of this venture. The salarian slid fluidly through the crowds that already filled the corridors and common areas, and it took all of Shepard’s focus to stay on his six while minimizing any interpersonal collisions. 

A solid half of the population demographics appeared to be divided roughly evenly between asari and turians, with the salarian representation coming in at a distant third. She noticed only a handful of other humans, though she thought for an instant that she’d spotted the hooded mask of a Quarian turning down another hallway. She was craning her neck back to catch another glimpse when she realized her salarian guide had stopped short in front of her. Her legs tensed, and she teetered backward to avoid crashing right into him. She had to recalibrate her balance once more to keep the heft of her locker from pulling her backwards to the ground. The salarian didn’t notice.

They had arrived in a smaller, outer corridor with alternating doors all down its length. It had a far more understated design and was far less crowded than the main areas. If there had been some kind of banner to indicate exactly where in the main building they were, she’d missed it. The salarian gestured vaguely at the electronic panel to one side of the door in front of them, eyes not leaving his datapad. “Check in is here.”

She surveyed the panel and in short order determined it wanted her palm print. She pressed her hand to the surface, and less than a second later it flashed with soft blue light and made a few shrill, electronic beeping noises. Her name popped up in the text display above, and the door opened into a small, boxy foyer. There was a single bench seat beside some manner of poorly-maintained plant, and another door beyond. Before she could say anything, the salarian was shoving a second datapad at her chest. She awkwardly dropped her locker to grab it, barely getting a grip on the datapad before he released it. He started rattling off again, his words coming across as a memorized script.

“This is your personal use datapad. It is preloaded with your schedule and full compound schematics, including your assigned quarters. If it becomes lost or damaged, you will have to pay to replace it. Your access key has been downloaded to your omnitool; it will get you in to anywhere you have authorization to be. This,” he gestured to the foyer, “is your mentor’s office, and they will be with you shortly. If you have any other questions please ask quickly. I have twenty-six more applicants to see to within the next three hours.”

Shepard had dozens of questions, several of which she hadn’t had before just now and a number that started with ‘what the hell.’ But she didn’t see them being answered in any kind of satisfactory way. She shook her head.

“I’m all set, I guess.”

“Good,” the salarian quipped, and without another word flitted away. Shepard looked around the hall and then back into the foyer. She heaved a sigh and dragged her locker into the small room with her. She was only just getting situated in the cold, uncushioned bench before the door opened. 

A bronze-skinned human woman who didn’t look as though she could be more than twenty strode out with an air of absolute confidence, shooting Shepard a smirk and a wink before gliding out into the hall. She was followed by an asari who was at the taller end of average for her species, her light blue skin lined with violet face tattoos. Her polished left pauldron bore the white-gold insignia of a Spectre in a reflection of Shepard’s own N7 stripes. The asari glared out after the exiting candidate, before hitting a control panel button that caused the outer door to hiss closed behind her. She then turned an expression on Shepard that hovered somewhere between boredom and indignation.

“You’re Shepard?” The asari’s question was brusque, as though she took offense at the commander’s audacity to exist.

Shepard stood to attention. That much respect was due, no matter what kind of disgruntled mood either of them was in. If she could manage it for an asshole superior like Mikhailovich, she could do it for this woman.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The asari didn’t do much to attempt to hide the roll of her eyes, and gestured with her head for Shepard to follow. “Inside. Leave your things out here. You’re late.”

Shepard frowned deeply as she followed the woman into her office. “That’s what they keep telling me. Except-”

“I am Spectre Tela Vasir,” the woman interrupted, voice raised to make a point. That point being she didn’t have a fuck in the galaxy to give. “I’ve been assigned as the mentor for your division. You’re one of thirty applicants under my purview, so I recommend you make every effort to not waste my time again.” She turned a sharp glance on Shepard, who still stood in front of the desk, hands at her lower back. “Sit.”

“Ma’am,” Shepard found herself saying again, though this time in a manner not unlike the one she’d have liked to use to tell Vasir to go to hell. She descended fluidly into the chair, keeping her back straight and shoulders square and her eyes on Vasir. She relaxed the polite expression she’d been reflexively maintaining, settling into the resting bitch face she was fairly well known for among her associates. Vasir heaved a sigh, lacing her fingers and propping her chin onto them as she scrolled through the text on her desk terminal, oozing boredom.

“The Alliance forwarded your service record, as well as the results of your preliminary psych profile. Looks like your primary qualification is your involvement in that tussle on Elysium a few months ago. The term used here verbatim is ‘war hero.’” Her eyes flickered up to Shepard, with only dull interest and a sarcastic half-smile. “Would you say that’s how you see yourself? A real life war hero?”

Shepard steeled herself against scowling openly, instead setting her jaw and grinding her molars for a moment while she formulated a response. “No, ma’am. I see myself as a soldier who is willing to do what needs to be done while refusing to compromise my principles.”

Vasir snorted, and Shepard couldn’t stop her eyes from narrowing ever so slightly. The asari tilted her head to one side.

“Well that’s cute, I’ll give you that. Is that what you think that qualifies you to be a Spectre?”

“It’s my understanding that the application board for this Academy thinks that qualifies me.” 

“Qualifies you to try your hand as a candidate, certainly. But tell me, Shepard.” Vasir leaned forward in her seat, folding her hands on the desk. “Why are you even here?”

Shepard’s brow crinkled in an annoyed frown. “My credentials aren’t enough for you?”

Vasir smiled coolly and sighed again. “Shepard. I’m questioning your motivations. I mean, other than trying to earn humanity a Council seat because you’re a good little soldier who does just as the Alliance asks her.”

Shepard’s skin flushed suddenly as her ire morphed into a wave of umbrage. She sucked in a deep breath, pushing it hard out through her nostrils as Vasir continued to emanate smugness.

“Yes,” Shepard replied, dropping her voice into a warning alto. “I am a _damn_ good soldier. And yes. I mean to support the Alliance’s interests in any way I can, including if that means becoming the first human Spectre. My performance here will be the final, objective word on my fitness for the job, and your preconceived judgements about me are going to die in irrelevance.”

Vasir’s smile turned into a highly amused grin. “Well, then. You’re not the cockiest human I’ve seen so far today, but you’re close. I hope you can measure up to everything you dream yourself to be. Dismissed to your quarters, Shepard. I suggest you try to sleep well. Tomorrow’s your first day, and it’s going to be a long one.”

Shepard followed the labyrinthine halls along the route displayed by her omni-tool. It was a good kilometer and a half trek: out the main building, through the outdoor plaza and down the broad footpath to the housing complex. Her building was the sixth of ten, and her bunk was going to be all the way at the top floor. And, to her increasingly weak surprise, the building didn’t have an elevator. It wasn’t as though the physical exertion itself was a problem; hell, it barely constituted a morning workout. But Vasir’s dressing down had put her in the kind of mood that swelled her with irrational anger, sending her mind dragging over every little incident that had been less than ideal throughout the entire day.

The turning cogs that had brought her here had begun only a few weeks prior. Simply being nominated was so implausible a concept to her that she had laughed in Captain Anderson’s face when he’d first proposed it. It took a full few minutes of his stone-faced silence for it to sink in.

She hadn’t been keeping up with broader galactic politics, but she had still been aware that all was not well in Council space. The Alliance had been stepping up their support of the Council and Citadel forces in response. She’d had firsthand experience with that. It was why the Batarian Hegemony had been taking bigger risks, why the Skyllian Blitz had even happened. The Batarians were taking gleeful advantage of the galactic political turmoil and the spreading thin of Alliance forces by launching a new territory dispute every couple of months, and worse, making ever bolder slave runs on human colonies. In the words of Captain Anderson, the galaxy was getting to be a damn mess. The thought of it sent her fingernails digging deep into the flesh of her palms.

There were those that promoted the idea that somehow all of this political chaos was interconnected, meant to intentionally weaken the Council overall. That honestly was more plausible than Shepard wanted to consider. And maybe the Council themselves had been giving that line of thought some credit. They had to have recognized that they needed all the help they could get, and were finding themselves a little less picky about the membership of their most exclusive Spec Ops club. 

Shepard briefly wondered if Vasir’s shitty attitude had been the product of the present situation, or if she had always been so far up her own ass.

She reached her room and dropped her belongings unceremoniously to the floor before using her omnitool to access the door. It slid open, and she turned to lean down and retrieve her things. There was already someone inside, a fact she discovered when a woman’s hand reached from inside to grab the strap of her duffel. Shepard offered a surprised, but polite look as she straightened up, the handles of her footlocker in either hand. Her helper gave a skewed smile in return.

“Hey, roomie. Bathroom’s there, kitchen’s there. Bunk is this way. It’s a shoebox, but the upside is it’s hard to get lost.” 

The woman led her across the main room to a door at the back. She set the duffel down next to it and extended a hand. “Name’s Williams. Ashley, or just Ash if you’re feeling inclined.”

“Shepard,” she greeted her. William’s smile went slack and her eyes widened slightly, hesitating.

“No shit?”

“Reporting negative shit,” Shepard chuckled gamely, pushing her trunk through the door. Inside was an extremely spartan setup- a plain room, no more than three meters square, with three bunks of very similar quality to standard Alliance issue cots. They sat a couple of meters off the floor, each resting above a storage cabinet. One of the three was still clearly unoccupied, which meant only one thing. She strode over and threw her duffel onto the mattress.

“How’d you end up out this way, Williams?” Shepard inquired casually as she shoved her trunk into one side of the cabinet. There was an armor rack against the other side, so she set about stripping out of her hardsuit.

“Hell if I know. Mostly some luck and a lot of obnoxious campaigning in my CO’s office until she signed the application just to get rid of me.” Williams flashed her teeth with a nervous chuckle before her eyes darted to Shepard’s pauldron. “Uh. I mean, Ma’am.”

“Just Shepard is fine,” she assured Williams. “We’re all on the same playing field out here.”

“With all due respect, Lieutenant Commander, the fuck we are.” 

Shepard blinked. Her armor didn’t bear her rank insignia. “How’d you know?”

“Uh, because your name is _Shepard_ ,” Williams scrunched her face while still somehow maintaining that anxious grin. “And the entire goddamn Alliance knows about how you handled things on Elysium.”

“Okay. You got me there. But I promise, I’m just a soldier like you.” Shepard swallowed back a lump that bubbled up into her throat. The whiplash of going from defending her military achievements to downplaying them was not lost on her. It made her feel a bit disingenuous, but while she was proud of her service record, it wasn’t exactly in her character to wallow in another’s admiration of it.

“Sure,” Williams laughed again, more derisively this time. “And I’m just an underfed Krogan.”

It was Shepard’s turn to grin, and to her own surprise it felt genuine. “Good to know. Just maybe don’t headbutt me if I piss you off.” They shared an awkward chuckle, then Shepard’s attention drifted to the third bed. She nodded at it. “Who’s the neighbor?”

“Some guy named Alenko,” Williams shrugged. “He’s a biotic like you. An L2, though, so he had to go down and get set up with the base...er, Academy medic. You’re an L3, right?”

Shepard raised her brows at that while she finished hanging her armor. “L5. Got a coupon for a free upgrade after completing N7.”

Williams whistled. “Isn’t messing around with a placed implant a brain injury risk?”

“It can be,” Shepard admitted, but felt a strong urge to change the topic. “Tell me more about you.”

The two of them made small talk for another half hour or so, standard social acclimation. Shepard eventually decided to raid the quarters’ small kitchenette for anything edible, and was bent over rifling through cupboards when the door opened. Who she could only assume was Lieutenant Alenko entered, and their eyes met as she straightened up. She was still wearing nothing besides the sports bra and synth-fiber shorts that she’d been left in after getting out of her hardsuit. It was a detail she’d completely spaced until his eyes dropped, then very quickly shot back up to her face. Ashley choked out a burst of laughter from the couch, prompting Alenko to quickly recompose himself.

“That’s, ah. You must be our other roommate.”

“ _That_ is Commander Shepard,” Williams clarified to him, and his eyes grew somehow wider as he turned to look at her again.

“Skyllian Blitz, hero of Elysium Commander Shepard?”

Shepard pressed her lips together briefly, ready to brush off his praise. Williams preempted her with a snort. “How many other Commander Shepards have you heard of?”

He didn’t react to the snark, reaching a hand out suddenly to Shepard, which she accepted courteously. “It’s an honor. I mean, Ma’am-”

“Just Shepard,” she insisted firmly, holding up a palm. “Really. Please.”

“Oh,” he responded, his voice going airy. “Right. I’ll try. Shepard.”

She didn’t reply, opting instead to thank him with a nod. She went back to her previous attempt at foraging. There was nothing in the tiny refrigerator but bottled water, which she made a point to pull out a handful of and set on the counter to return to room temperature. The only actual food she came across were meals in a corner cabinet, the kind of processed meals that came in a little box that you were meant to microwave for sixty seconds. The two options were vegetable stir fry and something that claimed to be beef stew. Good enough. She picked the rice option and fished around for cutlery while it warmed. Then, right there in the middle of the kitchen, shoveled it down like she was back in boot camp on double rations. All while trying in vain to ignore the way her bunkmates were speaking to one another in whispered exclamations- about her. She tossed the empty container into the recycling processor and stretched. A yawn quickly followed without her foreknowledge or consent. The sun was still hovering lazily over the horizon, and it was barely early evening local time. But she did some quick math and realized she’d been up for nearly twenty hours. 

“Think I’m going to turn in early if that’s all right with you guys.”

“Don’t need our permission, Commander,” Ash chortled. Shepard tried to keep her sigh to herself.

“Sleep well,” Alenko called after. Ash stifled her laughter into the thin cushions on the back of the couch, sending Alenko shuffling off to the bathroom in embarrassment. Shepard smiled a little despite herself as she grabbed the edge of bed and hauled herself up into it, ignoring the small stepladder. She flopped over and was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

Garrus sat. He’d been sitting for the better part of an hour now, mostly staring at the adjacent wall. The activity he’d chosen to occupy himself with for the past several minutes was scanning every tiny scratch in the floor’s finish, imagining patterns out of them. He drummed his talons against the armrests, wondering at what point he should try and contact the administration.

He’d set down with the rest of his contingent nearly two days prior. He’d utilized this extra time to get himself set up in his shared quarters and familiarize himself with the compound’s layout. He’d fully memorized his schedule before he’d even departed for the Academy, but even still as the delay dragged on he checked it over again. More than once, just to be sure. Every time he looked it was the same: familiarization with his mentor first thing this morning. He’d donned his standard issue military armor and come down to the main building a half hour early, intending to make a concerted demonstration of his commitment and determination. And waited. His eyes swept up to the digital time display on the wall, even though he could have checked his omnitool. His appointment had been meant to begin seventeen minutes ago.

Finally a voice echoed in from down the hall. He sat up, swivelling his head to better gauge the characteristics of the speaker. Male, turian. Well, that was at least the anticipated demographic. As the individual approached, he became steadily more aware that he was overhearing one side of a personal call.

“Yes, I understand, Macen, but….you’re right, I did. I know. It’s not….” then a deep sigh, and his voice dropping to a rumbling near-whisper. “I miss you too. I’ll let you know as soon as….yes. Until then.”

Garrus rose abruptly just as his presumptive mentor turned the corner, standing at perfect attention. The other man stopped dead upon seeing him, closing down his omnitool with a rapid flick. Garrus tried to will himself to give off the nonchalant vibe that no, he most certainly hadn’t been eavesdropping. The Spectre made a clipped nod and strode to the inner door, raising his omnitool to open it.

“My apologies for the delay. Come in.”

Garrus was in his seat before his mentor had even made it to the other side of the desk, and the man offered him a mildly puzzled look for his trouble. A self-conscious knot took sudden hold in Garrus’ gizzard, and he realized he’d been overdoing the enthusiasm. He must have come across like some green boot camp recruit who got his ideas about what war was like from action vids. It was his first day at C-Sec all over again, just without his ever-disappointed father there to bear witness to it. As the Spectre sank contemplatively into his own seat, Garrus stared down at the desktop ahead, hoping his mentor didn’t already think him as much an idiot as he was starting to feel.

“I’m Spectre Avitus Rix,” his mentor spoke amiably, tapping through the menus on his terminal. “My predecessor had to back out last minute and I’m the replacement. I haven’t had a chance to look at my itinerary, I’m afraid. Mind helping me out?”

He cleared his throat briefly. “My name is Garrus Vakarian. Spectre Rix. Sir.”

 _Idiot,_ he thought at himself.

Rix glanced at him and his mandibles twitched in the slightest glint of an amused smile. Heat flushed up Garrus’ neck and he had to focus to regulate his breathing. He was already making a spectacular show of himself and the evaluations weren’t even beginning until tomorrow. Rix typed something into the terminal.

“Vakarian. Now, there’s an impressive name.” He paused, then peered up at the younger man. “You wouldn’t be of Castis’ line, would you?”

Garrus tensed, his talons catching and gripping his armor’s knee joints. That had just come up much sooner than he’d hoped. “Yes, sir.”

Rix stared at him for a moment that seemed to last several minutes. “He was a good man. You have my condolences.”

Garrus’ brow plates started to lower and he tensed them back. His throat felt suddenly terribly dry, and the room’s water dispenser mocked him from the far corner behind the Spectre’s desk. Why couldn’t he force himself to just get up, walk past the elite spec-ops agent and hydrate himself?

“Thank you sir,” he rasped instead. Rix gave a respectful nod before turning his attention to the terminal display, dark eyes dancing over what Garrus assumed was his dossier. He analyzed the Spectre’s face intently for clues to his thoughts. His gut twisted up as he watched the man deeply frown at something he was reading. After a few more minutes, Rix sat up and hummed thoughtfully.

“All right, Vakarian. Orientation is tomorrow at seven and evaluations begin immediately after. Need anything else from me this morning?”

Garrus blinked.

That couldn’t be all there was. He’d prepared extensively to be interrogated, to have every aspect of his qualifications gone over with a dander pick. Even to answer awkward questions about his time at C-Sec and how it had all ended and why he hadn’t bothered to list the executor as a reference.

“No, sir.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Good to meet you, recruit.”

Garrus meandered back to his quarters in a haze of unspent energy, a shaky balance of relief and disappointment. His residential building was entirely populated with members of his own race, and as he scanned the milling throngs he was reminded with each individual of what he was up against. And on top of that, Spectre Rix hadn’t even thought his resume notable enough to bring any of it up. No, Garrus tried to reassure himself, his mentor was just having to play catch-up. He had plenty of other recruits to see and not enough time to do a deep dive on each individuals’ merits. Though there was at least something in his profile Rix had been obviously displeased with. Garrus’ gizzard churned again at recalling it, and he tried harder to pretend it wasn’t going to eat at him from here on out. Or that it hadn’t elicited a painfully similar psychological reaction in him to his father’s familiar, withering stare.

Castis was dead. Garrus was taking his shot at doing what he actually wanted to do with his life instead of what his father thought their bloodline deserved. He had to focus on that.

He waved his omnitool at the door to his quarters and straightened his posture before entering. To his mild solace, his roommate didn’t appear to be around. He checked the bedroom and, just as before he’d left, there was still once unclaimed bunk. He could dwell on his fractured thoughts in peaceful solitude.

He’d arrived the day before yesterday on the same Heirarchy state transport as fifty other recruits. Most of them had still been active duty soldiers, at least a couple of them decorated officers. He’d been the only C-Sec, or rather, ex C-Sec officer on board. Still, his own active military service had been commendable enough that he was able to swap war stories with the best of them, and by the time they’d arrived at the Academy he’d felt comfortably integrated into the group. Then they’d all been separated and filtered out to their various quarters, and he’d been on his own yet again.

The first four residential buildings had all been reserved for the turian populace of the Academy, the administration apparently having opted to keep the races segregated. It made a certain kind of sense for practical physiological reasons, particularly accommodating divergent dietary and hygiene requirements. Though, he supposed, it had brought along with it the disadvantage of hindering the development of cohesive interspecies relations. He personally didn’t have any problem with non-turians, but at the same time he wasn’t disappointed that he wasn’t going to have to deal with sharing an intimate space with one.

His current roommate had arrived on the same ship as him, and they’d made their general acquaintance. She hadn’t had much to say to him the past couple of days, anyway. Which was fine, as he’d been rather distracted himself and wasn’t exactly here to find himself a date. She’d taken the bunk to one wall and he’d judiciously selected the one against the other wall. She was a biotic named Kandros, a name that jumped out to him immediately as one of long, honored military tradition. She bore Digeris’ bright crimson face markings, a color he associated with warmth and beauty, like intense Palaven sunsets and the kind of flowers his dad once regularly had delivered to mom while he was off on the Citadel. And there he was, thinking about Castis again.

He shook his head to dispel the ghost and grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator. He downed it in a single go then sank to the couch, opening up an algorithmic sim game on his omnitool while he considered what to do with the rest of his day. There were three different gyms for different styles of training, though they’d all likely be packed at this hour and he wasn’t terribly interested in putting himself out for more judgment just this moment. He wasn’t hungry even though he’d kept his breakfast judiciously small. The commons lounge was usually overrun with some group of asari or another, and he didn’t feel up for socializing.

He completed the level he’d been working on and shut down the sim. He heaved a sigh, rolled his head back and stared up at the ceiling. Every fiber of him was wired, urging him to find something to channel all of this worked up energy. This was going to be a long damn day. He went back to the bedroom and got out of his armor, deciding that a shower would be a good way to waste fifteen or twenty minutes, even though he’d had one less than twelve hours ago.

The shower stall was barely large enough to turn around in comfortably, but at least the water was pleasantly hot. As he sucked in lungfuls of steam he went over a few mantras in his head. He could do this. He was going to do this. He had to do this. And not just to pointlessly prove his late father wrong. Because he needed to prove it to himself. That was what mattered the most.

And maybe if he told himself all of this enough, eventually he would start to believe it.

He shut off the water after he figured he’d wasted enough of the Council’s utility funds, turning on the air dryer for a few minutes longer than he’d needed before getting back into his clothes. While he stood in the warm blowing air, he chanced to remember there was a walkway up in the main commons that he’d spied when he’d ventured through on his first day. He’d thought at the time that it looked like a great place to snipe from if he’d ever ended up needing to. Which, of course, he wouldn’t. Not in a place like this, surrounded by nearly a thousand of his peers and betters. But it was fun to think about. Maybe he could find a way up there, people watch for a while. Make calculations on the angles of certain shots, figure out the quickest way to make a stealthy exit from the building. That actually didn’t sound too bad of an idea, and it wasn’t as though he had any other pressing business.

When he emerged from the bathroom, there was an unexpected, dark figure in the kitchen going through the cabinets. A turian man, maybe a dozen centimeters taller than Garrus, who was reasonably tall himself. His plating was a dark steel grey and his face markings a vibrant purple. Taetrus markings. But what really stole Garrus’ attention was the man’s heavy armor- it was of a black so deep and full that it seemed to drink the light, reflecting nothing. He could barely make out the armor’s topography or the edges of its seams. All except for one gunmetal colored emblem on the center of his chestplate, a stylized representation of a half-shadowed helmet seeping out of the darkness. His stomach transfigured instantly into lead while the man turned to look over at him, mandibles flaring in a wide grin.

“Hey. Ah, Palaven,” the man nodded at him, green eyes glittering with amusement as he scanned Garrus’ face intently. “Cipritine, even, huh? No worries, I spaced my politics back on the ride over.”

Garrus was numb. For the first time since he’d arrived, he didn’t feel like he had a challenging task ahead of him. He felt like maybe he didn’t have any business here at all.

“Blackwatch,” he blurted, unable to think of anything more intelligent to remark. The man laughed again, glancing down at his armor.

“Oh, yeah, you got me. Listen, it’s not that big a deal,” he shrugged and downed the packet of mixed protein crumbles he’d been opening, talking around his food. “Don’t worry about it.”

Garrus fumbled for his thoughts. Blackwatch was only the premier elite Hierarchy spec ops, charged with protecting Palaven from its most severe threats. And they only had the highest success rates of any division in the Heirarchy’s long history. Yeah. Not a big deal.

“Kyeros Quillan. Just ‘Ky’ is fine.” the soldier introduced himself. Quillan wasn’t a name Garrus recognized, but the renown of bloodlines had to start somewhere, he figured. The man held up a jovial forearm, and Garrus realized he’d been standing there, staring.

Garrus reflexively raised his own and crossed it against Ky’s, a gesture typically exchanged between more familiar soldiers and comrades, not as an initial greeting. It had a disarming effect, helping Garrus relax at least a little, for which he was grateful.

“Garrus Vakarian,” he forced out, an adrenaline rush he hadn’t been totally aware of beginning to subside. Ky’s brow ridges rose, almost exactly the same reaction his name had gotten out of Rix. He was becoming uncomfortably more aware of the weight his family name carried, of the expectations, and how questionable he was presently feeling about his ability to live up to them.

“Vakarian,” Ky repeated slow and deep, then snorted amiably. “The only other Vakarian I’ve met was a real pain in the ass. You know of a Castis?”

Garrus managed to force a low smile rather than wincing. Spirits be damned. The old man was going to follow him around for the rest of his life, even incorporeally.

“Yeah. My father, actually. He...passed on a few months ago in the line of duty.”

Ky’s face fell subtly, his pupils shrinking. “Oh. I, ah- yikes. Sorry. That’s my bad.”

Garrus made a wry chuckle, feeling inexplicably more at ease. There was something gratifying in Ky’s reaction. “It’s fine. He and I didn’t exactly get along, either. I can’t say I’d have disagreed with you about him.”

Ky’s grin returned and he chortled. “That’s a relief, then. Hey, who’s your mentor for this little shindig?”

“Avitus Rix,” Garrus replied in monotone.

“Nice,” Ky said. “I’m under Nihlus Kryik.”

Garrus’ heart rate picked up. Kryik was one of the most publicly well-known, infamous Spectres currently in service. He’d had more vids and books made about him than almost any other Spectre in history. Not for nothing, but his penchant for wantonly defying the rules in preference of doing what needed to be done had made him a sort of personal hero for Garrus. He’d never have assumed that Kryik would take time out of his illustrious career to personally vet potential junior colleagues.

“You’re kidding,” Garrus breathed, a little awestruck. Ky caught his younger companion’s reaction and grinned.

“Not a bit. I’ve crossed paths with him a few times in the line of duty, but never really got the chance to chat. The guy lives up to his reputation, I’ll say that much.”

“Yeah,” Garrus leaned back against the couch and looked away out the window. “Hard to imagine getting to that level.”

The operative’s head took on a subtle tilt. “How old are you, again?”

Garrus hesitated. “Twenty-two.”

“Damn, Vakarian. At twenty-two I was still a grunt butting heads with my CO and getting stuck on janitorial duty.” Ky dug out a second protein packet, taking mouthfuls between conversations. “Don’t stress it, kid. You wouldn’t be here if they didn’t think you had potential. Especially at your age.”

A little ember of warmth ignited in Garrus’ chest. “I certainly hope so, I don’t exactly have too many ideas on what I’m going to do with myself if this doesn’t work out.”

“I hear the Blue Suns are always hiring,” Ky snarked with a laugh. “Tell you what, Vakarian. Stick with me, and this time next year we’ll be two of the most badass Spectres this galaxy has seen the likes of.”

Garrus smiled and actually felt it this time, just before the room door opened. The quarters’ third occupant turned her green-gold eyes on Ky, giving him a quick visual appraisal and coming away looking unimpressed somehow. Garrus cleared his throat.

“Kandros,” he greeted her with a semi-formal side-nod. “This is Kyeros Quillan. Ky, this is our roommate, Nyreen Kandros.”

“Hey,” Ky greeted her with a tone that verged on flirty, while doing some subtle, maybe subconscious preening. It made Garrus squirm a little inwardly, and for whatever reason made him more conscious of the fact that he’d chosen earlier to leave the middle bunk open, to have it turn out to be for this guy. But Kandros only levelled a stony glare at Ky, giving him a brief visual appraisal and somehow coming away unimpressed..

“Nope,” she retorted, cutting a straight line for the bunks. Ky shrugged, tossing the empty packet that he’d been unconsciously hanging on to and wiping his hands before turning back to Garrus.

“So. You want to come down to the sparring rings with me? I got a few hours to kill before familiarization.”

“I had other plans for this morning,” Garrus said truthfully, intentionally leaving out the details of what exactly those plans were. He couldn’t decide if he thought it wouldn’t have mattered to the Blackwatch agent or if he thought the man might tease him about it and would rather avoid the possibility. Ky only shrugged and nodded.

“Not a problem. See you tonight then. Oh, and I guess there’s some social mixer in town this weekend, so keep your Saturday evening open. You’re coming with,” he called over his shoulder on his way out. The manner in which he’d proclaimed it suggested Garrus didn’t have a say in the matter. He wandered back into the bunk area, where Kandros was laying on her bed, watching some informational vid on her omnitool. She offered him a brief glance and then went back to what she’d been listening to. Garrus reached into his storage closet, pulling a box out from between his rifle case and his garment trunk.

“Meet with your mentor yet?” he asked casually, popping open the tabs on the box.

“Yep,” Kandros replied, not elaborating. Garrus took her cue and fell silent. He pulled the Kuwashii visor out of its foam casing and turned it over gingerly in his hands for a moment. It had been a gift to himself upon his acceptance into C-Sec. He wasn’t normally one to spend credits on himself, least of all for something so expensive, but he’d had his eye on this model for most of his adolescence. It had become like an auxiliary appendage to him over the past couple of years. He put it on, watching the HUD automatically spring to life and begin streaming out combat-relevant numbers and sensor readings. He wished he could bring his unloaded M-92 Mantis up with him for authenticity’s sake, but he had a feeling that the grounds security wouldn’t take kindly to that.

He rose and went to leave, not bothering Kandros with a farewell, and tried to reassure himself that Ky was right. As long as he did his best and didn’t overthink this, he was going to have a shot.

His own inner voice laughed at his attempt at optimism.


	3. Chapter 3

Before orientation was breakfast. As it turned out there were two separate large cafeterias, one for either chirality. Dishes were set out on long islands in a buffet-style setup, organized in various dietary categories and inclusive of multiple cultures. Shepard had been expecting a bare minimum of effort, the same sort of nutrient-heavy, flavor-deficient provisions she’d become accustomed to long ago as a young Naval recruit. So she was taken aback to see the spread. She made straight for a table of familiar breakfast classics, a veritable feast of proteins, light carbs and fruit. All of it cooked fresh, leagues ahead of military chow. She grabbed a plate and began to load up on eggs, biscuits and sausages with zeal, promising herself to come back later for a full helping of fruit as a chaser.

“Manna from heaven,” Alenko’s cooing voice came from behind her, and she looked back to see him using a two-pronged fork to hook a small steak. She gave a half smile.

“I wonder if this is every day or just for the kick-off,” Shepard mused. Williams followed close behind Alenko, stacking her plate high with pancakes.

“Probably depends on who’s paying for all of this,” she muttered.

“Tax money hard at work,” Shepard replied. “I’m sure the Alliance pitched in its share for the Earth cuisine, at least. They’d consider getting a representative on the Council to be worth the relatively small investment of decent food.”

“If it was a sure thing, yeah.” Williams drizzled syrup over her plate until the cakes were soggy. “But I wouldn’t put it past the Council to dangle that carrot in front of humanity’s collective face for decades.”

They found an empty corner at one of the long, crowded tables and all tucked in. Shepard and Alenko both went back for seconds, and Williams made a low-effort crack about biotic calorie requirements. Within a half hour the cafeteria had mostly emptied, and they followed suit, getting a move on back to their residential building.

The compound was huge, but clearly no single building therein was large enough to host an audience of several hundred candidates on its own. Instead of a mass assembly, orientation was being conducted in the residential halls’ individual outdoor courtyard areas, broadcast on several large electronic displays. It was crowded even out here, dozens of other human and asari bodies all packed together in amphitheater-style seating. Finally the display lit up with the image of a dark-plated turian man with ornate white face markings and acid green eyes. He was one of only a handful of Spectres Shepard knew by name: Nihlus Kryik.

The man’s visage began to animate- this was a prerecorded vid playback. He blinked, standing stock still for a few seconds before speaking. His dual vocals came booming out through the speakers.

“Greetings, candidates. I am Nihlus Kryik, seniormost Spectre of this Academy and overseer of proceedings from this moment forward. You are all here for the same goal, which only a fraction of you will accomplish. I do not believe I need to explain to any of you here the significance of the honor and responsibility of being a Spectre. However, if you lack full comprehension, rest assured you will be fully enlightened within the next few weeks. You will be pushed to, and past, your limits in our search of those worthy of the Spectre designation.

“I and twenty nine of my colleagues will be spending the next six weeks evaluating you. You will be tested and ranked as we determine which of you are entitled to be considered as cadets to our esteemed organization. At the end of these first six weeks, each of my colleagues and I will compile lists of our top ten candidates. It is highly plausible that there will be some amount of overlap, as candidates may be nominated by more than one evaluator. Therefore there will be somewhere between thirty and three hundred nominees between us who will continue on to the second stage of candidacy. The rest of you will depart at this time. Those who wash out will be allowed to make a second application, at their own discretion. There will be no third attempts.

“For those who pass muster, you will undergo even more rigorous testing for the next six weeks. At the end of this time, each Spectre on staff will be allowed to select one inaugural candidate, with no allowances for overlap. The remaining candidates will be put on standby for future consideration, in order of their rankings and as the Council deems necessary. The victors of the second phase will move onto the third phase; full Spectre mentorship. In summary, thirty of your number here today will be full-fledged Spectres within the next six months.”

There was murmuring rippling through the crowd. Even going in knowing that this process was going to be fast-tracked, six months seemed ridiculously fast. Shepard slowed her breath into deep inhalations, trying to focus as Nihlus resumed speaking over the baffled voices.

“Preliminary evaluations will begin at the top of the next hour and will be conducted throughout the next week. Consult your schedules to find where you are to go. Your punctuality and performance are your own responsibility, and this facility maintains a zero tolerance policy for failures at either.

“Yours is the first of what is hoped will be many cycles of Spectre nominees. The success or failure of this novel process will depend on the quality of the body of candidates here today. Make us proud. Make your species proud. Make yourselves proud.”

As the vid cut out, the throng burst into a hundred excited conversations. Williams and Alenko were conversing, and she was vaguely aware that some of what they were saying may have been addressed to her. But she was processing Nihlus’ words, and recalling her terse, antagonistic exchange with Vasir. And Shepard was realizing that she’d been wrong on at least one account. The Spectre staff would be hand-picking their nominees. There was at least some probability that raw data was not going to have the final say.

The opinion of Vasir or, at the least, that of one of her colleagues, was going to end up being quite relevant.

Her first evaluation of the day was in biotic combat, because what else would it have been. Vasir’s face managed to look impossibly more self-satisfied as Shepard passed her, and she ignored it with all her resolve. Alenko had ended up in a separate session, likely on account of a difference in their respective biotic skill sets. This session was for the heavy-hitters, the brute force biotics and the chaos they could rain in close quarters.

The amassed group was predominantly asari, to the surprise of no one in the galaxy. There were three turians total, a woman and then two men who looked almost perfectly alike. She’d never seen turian twins, and had no idea that was even possible. There was exactly one other human, the young woman who she’d seen leaving Vasir’s office the day before. Shepard unconsciously made her way towards her, prosocial primate instincts being what they were.

The woman was laughing musically as she chatted with a violet asari sitting next to her, both of them leaning in on each other with intense interest. She was rail thin, not looking much like a soldier. Her hair was long and wavy, pulled into a loose bun that wouldn’t have passed spec. As Shepard approached, the asari’s eyes darted up to her, causing the human woman’s head to whip around, following her associate’s gaze. Her lips broke into a bright smile that was almost unsettling for some reason Shepard couldn’t pinpoint. The kind of smile that was just a little too big, too enthusiastic to be sincere.

“And there’s the one and only Commander Shepard!” the woman beamed. Shepard deftly moved around the ‘here we go again’ feeling, having grown almost accustomed to it now. She smiled back, though far less vehemently.

“You’ve heard of me,” Shepard acknowledged gamely.

“Everyone’s heard of you,” she smirked, then extended a hand. “All the humans, anyway, I assume. Nika Temaru.”

Shepard had decidedly not heard of Nika, which only seemed odd in that they were apparently in the same general ballpark of biotic capability. Not that everyone who could go toe-to-toe with Shepard had to be famous, but with the relatively tiny population of human biotics it would be extraordinarily hard to hide that kind of proficiency. There was no insignia or any sort of identification on Nika’s clothing to clue Shepard in to anything else about her.

“Are you Alliance?”

“Oh, god no. Just a civvie here. Albeit with, just, top notch private combat training.”

“That’s...surprising. Usually the Council requires official military experience for Spectre consideration.”

“I’m sure they usually do.” Nika lolled her head back, craning a look of nonchalant confidence up at Shepard. “I guess I’m just that awesome.”

Vasir’s comment on cocky humans came to mind. At this moment she understood the frame of reference, though she’d happily have a long and forceful debate with the asari Spectre over the difference between earned confidence and an overblown ego. Her brows furrowed slightly, thoroughly put off from her instinct to gravitate to another human.

“Well, nice to meet you. Good luck on your assessment.”

Nika’s smile remained unchanged but her eyes narrowed, turning the look patronizing. “Oh, there won’t be any luck necessary.”

Before Shepard could probe her meaning, Vasir started bellowing over the idle chatter of her charges.

“All right, kids. Welcome to your first of many evaluations. While the details will vary widely, the basics will be the same across the board. Your profiles were all good and well, but we’ll be needing to see you in action before ranking you. Ranking will be categorized in Tiers: S, A, and B. These rankings are not final, but I strongly recommend giving it everything you’ve got today. Your individual rankings are not as important as overall collective rankings. The latter will be what determines your consideration for Stage 2, so don’t come crying to me if you're assigned B Tier. In fact I’ll just as soon eject you entirely from my tutelage if that happens. Understood?”

There was a collective murmur of assent, and Vasir led them over to the open training area.

The various tests were fairly basic, if considerably challenging in their scope. Lifting crates in ascending weight up to and over a metric ton. Maximizing power and distance in their barrier detonations and shockwave blasts respectively. Those who had the ability demonstrated the durability of their barriers. And they weren’t being allowed to eat anything in between individual tests, that in itself an assessment of endurance. There didn’t seem to be a plan to test specialized abilities, at least not for now. Shepard found it mildly disappointing, but supposed that Vasir had to know full well all the biotic skills she was capable of.

Near the end of the session a couple of the asari and one of the ‘twins’ were already looking worse for the wear. Even Shepard herself was feeling the burn. Nika, on the other hand, was barely sweating. She was strutting around like a preening bird, like she hadn’t undergone anything more strenuous than a brisk run and was ready for more. Shepard scowled.

The final test, after they’d been given a moment to hit the water station, was for those who could pull off a biotic charge. Shepard’s own crowning achievement, this was the ability in her wheelhouse that she was most proud of. The number of human biotics who could do it was less than a hundred. A burst of renewed energy came over her. She knew she’d be less impressive now than if she’d been fully rested, but she still had confidence that she could match or best most of the other participants. Maybe even show Nika what biotic combat was really about.

The test was to pass through up to three consecutive kinetic repulsion barriers. According to Vasir, all of them should be able to clear the first barrier, and only a few were going to breach the third. A total of thirteen of them formed a queue behind the starting circle, just under half the entire group. Nika made a point to put herself at the back of the line, sending Shepard a demure wave of her fingers when the soldier looked back at her. She set her jaw, trying to decide whether she found this brat or Vasir more vexing and whose face was going to be more entertaining to rub her success in.

The first participant, the violet-hued asari, lit up with a glowing blue sheen and took her stance.

“Woo, Ryssa! Kick some ass!” Nika cheered from the back. The asari beamed back at her, and Vasir gave them each a deep glare for their trouble. In a streak of light and with the low thrum of a sonic boom, she passed through the first two barriers like they were nothing. She hit the third and barely made it through, her biotic field shattering apart as she rolled into a violent tumble. Shepard was one of several who tensed reflexively, waiting to see if the girl was all right. She rose shakily to her feet with a loopy wobble, raising her hands to reassure the observers.

In sympathetic response a wave of polite applause rippled through the other participants. Ryssa exchanged a high-five with Nika before making her way to the water station.

The testing continued, candidates varying widely in their abilities. Shepard watched each carefully, calculating exactly what power output it was going to take. The next round of evaluations was going to require at least a little of her energy, so she couldn’t go flat out like she wanted. Still, she figured she could still cut it close by holding back a little in reserve. By the time she’d reached that conclusion, it was her turn. She dropped into her stance; knees bent, elbows out at her sides, fists clenched. She was ready.

From an outside perspective, a biotic charge was indistinguishable from teleportation. Organic eyes just couldn’t track movement that fast. From inside it, the world slowed all around Shepard, everything nearly freezing in place, and she was enveloped in a field that dropped her mass to next to nothing. She was then rocketed forward like a propulsion missile, the leading edge of her mass field acting like a battering ram. She slammed through the first barrier, feeling the powerful resistance crushing down all around her. She sensed her momentum slow as she slipped through it, though she knew the difference in velocity would be imperceptible to her audience. The strain to keep her field up had been considerably more arduous than she’d estimated. She hit the second barrier, and could already feel her field beginning to collapse. She wasn’t going to be able to keep it up at this rate. She was either going to have to underperform here, or in the next session. She couldn’t have both, and she didn’t have time to mull it over.

With a mental curse, she kept to her original plan. She finally slipped through the second barrier, with the third coming up fast. She braced for impact, just in time to smash right into the barrier. Her field evaporated from the collision and she ricocheted backwards, tucking in on herself to mitigate the consequences.

She caught the noise of a sharp, feminine gasp from the wall where the resting biotics were waiting. She grunted and hefted herself up on her arms and knees, not even waiting for the world to stop spinning. Nika let a giggle slip, though the rest of the room had fallen silent. Shepard climbed up onto wobbly legs, and without saying anything dragged her exhausted muscles over to the water station.

The kiosk had been stocked with a variety of protein bars some time between her last visit and this one. She grabbed a handful of the ones with a label she recognized and barely had the wrapper off first before angrily stuffing it in her mouth. She could have made it, and she knew it, and it pissed her right off that she’d had to make a petty sacrifice like that. Whoever had arranged her schedule was an asshole and a moron, and she had half a mind to figure out exactly who that was. Then something occurred to her. Had it been set up this way on purpose?

Nihlus’ words came back to her. ‘Pushed to, and past, your limits…’

There it was. There was nothing about this overall experience that was being done on accident or negligently. Their skills were under scrutiny, yes, but so was everything else. Their psychology, their temperaments, their response to every pressure they were put under. She would have bet every credit she’d earned in her career that her instincts were right.

She was throwing her crumpled wrappers into the garbage when she saw that Nika was gearing up to go. Maybe she was a plant, Shepard mused, to test the other candidates. She did actually possess significant biotic ability, but Spectres were expected to excel in several fields of specialty. This girl couldn’t possibly be an actual contender.

And then Nika flashed bright, piercing through all three barriers in succession and kept going. Her field collided into the far wall with a heavy thud and then dissipated. She was still standing upright. She turned, her eyes scanning the dead silent room, and found Shepard. She smirked toothily, and with the same wink as when they’d first crossed paths. Several other participants broke into applause, cheers and whistles of admiration.

Okay. Vasir was bad enough. But Shepard was absolutely going to relish seeing this haughty bitch go down, sooner or later.

The candidates were dismissed and allowed a short break while scores were tallies and rankings determined. Names were called out, followed by their assigned Tier. Shepard should have figured the rankings were going to be public knowledge. All the better to fan the flames of competition between candidates.

Vasir got to Shepard’s name and looked her directly in the eye. She wasn’t smirking, but the superiority complex still came across just fine. “A-Tier.”

Shepard scowled and her mouth started to open. Vasir’s brows raised just slightly, as if daring Shepard to try and argue. She snapped her mouth shut instead, stalking over to the bench and gathering her things as she fumed. She was going to have more chances to show what she was really capable of, and once Shepard made Spectre Vasir was going to have to live the rest of her long-ass life only to one day die mad about it. She left, not caring to wait around to confirm that Nika was getting assigned to S-Tier.

She had just enough time to make it to her next session if she double-timed it, which she did. This one she’d been looking forward to almost as much as her biotic evaluation. She’d made it into the hand-to-hand evaluation reserved for the top candidates, the proverbial heavyweights in unarmed combat. It was to be overseen by Spectre Kryik, and he at least didn’t seem to be as much of an ass as Vasir.

Shepard reached the sparring gym and crossed the threshold with her head high. Several heads turned to look at her. She stopped still in the doorway, feeling she shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was by the situation within. As her eyes panned across the room it became perfectly clear that every face staring back at her was turian.


	4. Chapter 4

Garrus was flying high after wrapping up his tech assessment. His evaluator had been a salarian Spectre named Maerun who had been fairly well impressed with Garrus’ skills and free with his praise. His expectations going in had been low, and so hearing the announcement that he’d cleared his way into S-Tier had given him renewed life. Even Kandros had seemed to take notice, having ended up in the same Tier ranking. Garrus had given her an acknowledging nod when he caught her glancing at him. Her mandibles twitched into a small smile. If he was very charitable with himself, he supposed she looked impressed. He decided he wouldn’t mind if she ended up opening up to him a little more after this.

What he was really looking forward to was the next session, however. In the sparring gym he would have his hand-to-hand evaluation, conducted by none other than Nihlus Kryik himself. Garrus would finally have the chance to speak with him in person, perhaps even make known the inspiration he’d taken from the Spectre. On top of that, he understood this to be the combat session for those candidates who’d been determined as having the highest general levels of performance among all present candidates. The weight he’d been bearing from his fear of failing was slowly starting to fall away. Perhaps he hadn’t been giving himself enough credit, after all.

Garrus arrived at his destination early as always, joining the few other candidates who were warming up around the hit-targets. He bantered casually with some of them, feeling invigorated ready for anything. Within several minutes, a familiar voice called his attention.

“Palaven,” Ky greeted, bumping Garrus’ shoulder. Like the rest of the assembled candidates, he was out of his armor. He was still startlingly burly, and even his casual physical push had sent Garrus backwards a few centimeters. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Good on you.”

Garrus smiled back. “You know, actually, on my last military posting I was one of the two top ranked in hand-to-hand, with this recon scout. She and I were both-”

“Sen!” Ky called, cutting him off while waving over at a statuesque turian woman. Her plating was blindingly off-white, her face markings a deep, charcoal brown. Her dark eyes seemed familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place from where. She had turned and was gliding towards them with an impeccable grace and confidence. Ky nudged Garrus with a shoulder and a chuckle. “That's Senairis. We, ah, got acquainted down here yesterday.”

Garrus chose not to speculate on the possible interpretations of that particular euphemism, instead nodding Sen’s way politely.

“Quillan,” she returned neutrally, stopping a couple meters away. Her voice was cool and smooth. “You ready to lose again?”

Garrus blinked, eyes darting between the two of them. Even out of his armor, Ky was very obviously a force to be reckoned with. Yet it would seem this woman had bested him at least once.

“Only to you,” Ky crooned mischievously. He then jerked his head the younger man’s way. “This is Vakarian, by the way. He’s one of Avi’s.”

Sen shot Ky an irritable glare. It was brief, but Garrus was certain he’d caught it, and he knew he must have missed something. But before he could dwell it further, everyone was stopping what they were doing and turning to stand at attention. Garrus instinctively followed suit, and sure enough, there stood Nihlus Kryik in the doorway. The Spectre surveyed the group and then checked his omnitool briefly before nodding to them.

“At ease. We begin in five minutes.”

Garrus watched the man stride over to a terminal where he got to work. He considered if now would be an appropriate time to go and introduce himself or if he should wait until after the evaluation was over.

Ky had relaxed, rolling his shoulders and doing a few stretches. He turned his face back towards Garrus after a moment. “So. That recon scout. She cute?”

Garrus barely heard him. He’d taken notice that several other candidates had turned to gawk in the direction of the doorway, and his eyes followed. Standing there in the middle of the frame, poised and composed, was a human woman.

He’d seen his share of humans in his life, mostly after setting up on the Citadel since considerably few could be found on Palaven. Most humans there were tourists or contractors. Their number here at the Academy was somewhere around fifty, but he tended to see several of them at least every day. This human, she stood out, and not only because she looked to be out of place.

Her clothing was spartan; only black, fitted pants with what he knew to be an N7 insignia running down one leg, and a kind of halter of the same material and emblem across her torso. He’d never seen one of her kind in that manner of dress that he could recall. Her (what was it called again, hair?) was dark and ruddy, pulled back in a tight knot behind her head. Her piercing eyes scanned the room, and he knew enough about human facial expressions by now to recognize an assertive determination in them.

What really stood out to him was the way he could easily discern the definition of her muscles beneath her skin, the contour of her collar bones, as well as several raised lines that he assumed were scars. There was a lot you could ascertain about a human just by the basic physical presentation. This one was certainly a physically admirable specimen of her species. That didn’t mean it made sense to him that she’d shown up for this particular session.

There was a choked snort from behind him. Ky’s voice rumbled out in a sardonic tone.

“You lost, Alliance?”

Blurting his words before he could stop himself, Garrus followed up with, “Yeah, I think the squishier species are scheduled for next session.”

Ky heaved a chortle at the comment, as did several of the other candidates. Garrus inwardly recoiled. He had meant it as a joke, a teasing remark, not unlike the kind he’d grown accustomed to hearing out of Ky. But he’d failed in his delivery, and it sounded like downright mockery even as he heard himself say it. The woman’s expression darkened into an intense glower that confirmed his apprehensions. He mentally stumbled for a remedial follow-up but was shut down preemptively by Nihlus’ booming voice.

“Shepard is in the correct session,” he barked. His green eyes zeroed in on Garrus, whose stomach dropped down to the floor. He wished he could sink into the metal panelling right with it. Any number of first impressions he could have made with the infamous Nihlus Kryik, and that had been it.

“My apologies, sir,” he muttered quickly in contrition.

“In fact,” Nihlus went on, either not having heard Garrus or ignoring him, “Shepard, I’d like to see you in the ring first. Vakarian, perhaps you’d be bold enough to partner with her. That is, if you wouldn’t find it too debasing.”

The room was dead silent. His stomach knotted tighter. The high he’d been riding before seemed now no more than a distant memory. Nihlus already knew him by name. Probably knew quite a bit more about him, as well, and it hadn’t helped. Right out the gate, he was on the Spectre’s shit list.

Garrus scanned the woman again. Shepard, Nihlus had called her. There was a chance he could respectfully decline the Spectre’s suggestion, not sure if that or accepting it carried the worse outcome. Neither was going to help improve Nihlus’ opinion of him.

“I’ll have a go at it,” Ky threw his hand into the air. Nihlus narrowed his eyes.

“Stand down, Quillan,” he snarled low, and Ky’s hand sank. Nihlus returned his laser glare back to Garrus, who resigned himself to his fate and trotted steadily toward the opposite end of the ring from where Shepard had stationed herself.

Between his own personal experiences grappling with human perps and the data coming in from his visor, he yet felt confident that taking her down should be perfectly possible, not that he necessarily thought it was going to an easy match. He was going to have to be careful about his talons when it came to her skin- human flesh tended to be moderately delicate, especially when it came to sharp edges. At the same time, there was a chance she was anticipating his wariness and planned to take advantage of any hesitation he showed. It would be a special kind of humiliating if she got the better of him just because he was trying to be sporting.

Nihlus stepped to one edge of the ring, evenly spaced between them. “The objective of this exercise is to neutralize your opponent as quickly as possible. A win will be called based on either a pin, a knockout, or a ringout. You are to use any and all techniques at your disposal short of lethal force. Contenders,” he glanced between the two of them, rising his hand sharply before dropping it. “Begin.”

Garrus’ staggered hands were up instantly in a standard guard position. Shepard’s tightly curled fists were raised similarly, up closer to her face. Her eyes were locked on him, a predatory intent emanating from her. They circled slowly a few meters from one another, Garrus waiting on his instincts to tell him the right time to strike.

Shepard lunged first.

She was fast. Much faster than he’d been anticipating. He was able to block each of her flurry of jabs, but it took effort to match pace with her and he wasn’t going to be able to throw any blows of his own. It was the one advantage humans seemed to have in an unarmed fight against turians: their fists. They were built for delivering hammer blows the same way turian hands had evolved to eviscerate flesh. But turians still had elbows and knees, and their musculature therein tended to pack more raw power. He swung out a few tight elbow strikes, Shepard managing to dodge them with uncanny ease and coming back with counter attacks each time. One of her punches slammed square into his forearm, flooding the limb with a burst of pain and tingling nerves. This already wasn’t going the way he’d hoped.

Garrus took a couple of long steps back, meaning to provoke her into advancing on him. She didn’t take the bait, and in a moment they were circling again in the opposite direction. If he could let her wear herself out a bit, build up her confidence, he could go for a grapple. She could dodge and she could hit, but physics were physics, and he had to outweigh her by half again. He moved forward to feint a knee strike, and she came at him again with the hail of buffets he’d been expecting.

Shepard danced back as anticipated, and Garrus leaped into the ground she’d given. He dodged to one side of her and went in for her waist. He had considerable reach on her; she wasn’t going to be able to connect a swing on him without fully extending herself. But she suddenly jerked away and ducked under his arm, his hand grabbing open air. And then she flew up right inside his guard.

Her left fist crashed up into his face with absolutely devastating force. He thought he could feel the ‘pop’ of a hairline crack opening up in the plate under his eye. As he reacted against the momentum of her blow, fighting to lean forward and stay on his feet, his visor lit up with an urgent sensor alarm. At the same time, he noticed the faint bluish shimmer covering the flesh of her arms.

“Wait-” he started to say, bringing up his left arm to block her follow-up. He was too slow, and her strike landed impossibly hard into his ribs. Hard enough that he found himself flying off his feet, tumbling over onto his stomach before catching himself in a decelerating roll. Pain bloomed up through his torso, each breath sending a sharp stab up into his lung. One or more of his ribs might have even been broken. No time to worry about that. He started to scrabble up to his feet, but as he placed his hand down he saw the contour of the thick black line under his hand.

Ringout. Nihlus called it just as the reality was setting in.

“Spirits,” came an awestruck whisper.

The world was spinning. He whipped his face to Shepard, in total denial of what had just gone down. Just as he’d thought, the faint blue glow evaporated off her arms just as his eyes refocused on her. Her mouth was curled up on one side, a look that he read as contemptuous. Ky barked a guffaw of disbelief through the otherwise totally silent gym. He climbed to his feet, spinning to face Nihlus, who inexplicably was not only not saying anything about Shepard’s clearly illegal use of biotics, but looked plainly amused himself.

“She cheated!” Garrus sputtered. “She’s a biotic. That’s not-”

“Good observation,” Nihlus interrupted, folding his hands placidly behind his back. “Shepard did not, in fact, fight ‘fair.’ When you are a Spectre there is no fighting ‘fair,’ there is only success or defeat. So, yes, Vakarian, she used her biotics. On herself. Not on you. Quite the clever tactic if you ask me. I did say to use all of the tactics you had at your disposal, did I not?”

Garrus gaped. She’d used her biotics on her own body, somehow amplifying her strength and speed. And to make matters worse, Nihlus had clearly been aware that she could do that, and opted to use Garrus’ obliviousness as an example for everyone else rather than warn him. Titters of amusement and approval started echoing from the assembled group behind him. Heat flushed up through his neck and under his face plates, his hands clenching and unclenching.

“If I’d just been made aware that she could-” he continued to protest.

“Spectres very often are subject to coming upon unexpected challenges,” Nihlus retorted with disdain. “Adaptability is a crucial skill, and often the deciding factor between life and death in the field.”

“You know, you could always try for the next session instead if you’re not up for this one,” Shepard’s cool alto drifted to him in a sing-songy, mocking way. It may have been his imagination that Nihlus chuckled.

Garrus clenched his teeth together, his hot breaths coming through his nostrils in sharp, quick bursts. He knew if he stood here any longer, he was going to do something stupid. He turned and stormed off to the far wall, while Nihlus called out the names of the next two combatants. He grabbed an analgesic patch for his ribs and a bottle of water out of the nearby case. He threw his back against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting, and started applying the patch. He felt the tickle of something above his mandible and wiped at it, his hand coming away with a small blue smear. Blood. She’d cracked a plate on him, after all.

He dug a small tube of medigel from the first aid pack and dabbed at his injury, running through the unreasonably short fight in his mind and unpacking the plethora of things he could possibly have done differently. After several sparring rounds his name was called again, and he stepped into the ring once more. He still fought hard, but he’d been shaken. When it took him longer than it should have to pin his opponent, he blamed Shepard. And again in his next matchup when he fell for a feint and got pinned, he blamed Shepard. The only time he didn’t blame her was when Ky executed a throw technique on him that sent him sailing out of the ring thirty seconds in. He’d seen that loss coming, and wouldn’t have minded it nearly so much were it not for Shepard’s cocky little smirk afterward.

At the end of the session, Ky made his way over to chat while scores were tallied. Garrus was in no mood, especially after getting to experience Ky laughing at him along with everyone else. After a few failures to respond, the larger man finally picked up on Garrus’ foul mood.

“All right kid,” Ky’s jocular voice was still breathy from exertion. “So she went and got you by your spurs. It happens, don’t take it personally.”

“I’m not,” Garrus grumbled the lie. “Doesn’t help that Nihlus was clearly favoring her, though.”

“Heh,” Ky huffed. “I caught that too. To each their own. Never thought him the type, but who knows.”

Garrus’ brow plates furrowed, and he flicked a puzzled glance over at Ky.

“What type?”

Ky chuckled knowingly, lightly swatting Garrus’ chest with the back of his hand. “Aw, c’mon. Really?”

Garrus shook his head in bemusement. Ky grinned wide.

“A Code 314. That was what we called it back in my old unit, anyway.”

Garrus blinked for a few more seconds before the pieces started to fall into place and the realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, an uncomfortable feeling coming over him.

“You don’t think he’s...interested in her?”

“I mean, could be. Don’t quote me or anything. He probably wouldn’t take too kind to the insinuation. But hypothetically if he were, and she hypothetically reciprocated, well hell. Something like that could get her fast-tracked.”

Garrus scowled out at the ring where Senairis had leg-locked some poor soul’s neck. “No. There’s no self-respecting Spectre who would nominate someone just because they’d slept with them. Let alone a subordinate.”

“Nihlus always did like to push the boundaries,” Ky shrugged. “Honestly, though, she wouldn’t need the help. That Shepard’s the real thing. I took her down, yeah, but it was close. And I think it was more she was getting tired than anything else. Running out of juice. Might be fun to see what she can do when she’s fresh.”

Garrus seethed at Ky’s words. Even the closest thing he had to a friend in this place was giving Shepard a glowing appraisal.

Soon after, Nihlus was loudly announcing his S-Tier candidates. Kyeros, obviously. Senairis. Down the list in order of raw scores. And then….Shepard. Fucking Shepard was in S-Tier. Nihlus then started on the A-Tier listing, and Garrus waited around just long enough to hear his name before marching his way out. He was fortunate that lunch was scheduled next, because the mood he was in now was going to affect him right into his ranged rifle evaluation if he didn’t take the time to get it under control. And that was the most important of his evaluations today, as far as he was concerned.

Shepard was a nuisance, an impediment. He was sure would have had a shot at making S-Tier if she hadn’t shown up. Well, mostly. His remorse over his initial comments to her was long gone, and in fact he resolved that she’d deserved worse.

Oh, he was going to be significantly more prepared to face her next time. And he wasn’t going to play nice.


	5. Chapter 5

In a merciful turn of events, Shepard’s next item of business was lunch. And to her endless rapture, the buffet-style offerings had in fact turned out to be a regular feature. She piled a plate high with anything that happened to catch her appetite’s notice, from salmon nigiri to mini chicken tacos to grilled veggie skewers, and a side bowl of pork vindaloo thrown in for good measure. The mountain of calories she’d burned off through the afternoon more than justified a little gorging, and her next evaluation would be for close-range firearm testing and modded ammo competency. An overfull gut wasn’t going to affect her performance in any meaningful way.

Neither of Shepard’s roommates nor any of the other few acquaintances she’d made the past couple of days were present. That was fine with her. She wasn’t in a wholly social mood as it was, instead content to sit in relative solitude for a room as congested as this. She took the time to reflect over her day so far, her whole two evaluations that had together taken a little over three hours to complete. They’d both been decently challenging, a good warmup for the insanity she was assuming was coming eventually. She wondered when it would get anywhere close to the ordeal that had been her N7 training. There wasn’t much that beat the insanity of being dropped on an asteroid sans nav data, being supplied only basic survival gear and a single tank of oxygen, and having to outlast most of the other trainees in your group. This had been a Tuesday so far, in comparison.

Problem was, there was nothing they seemed to be tested on yet that the Academy wouldn’t have known they could do from the application vetting process. No one here would have gotten in without a referral from whatever military or other institution the Council deemed credible. Sure, a resume could hypothetically be faked, but besides being incredibly difficult, such an attempt would be incredibly stupid. Whoever took a chance on something like that would be found out in only a matter of time.

 _No,_ she confirmed to herself, shoving an entire salmon roll into her mouth. The evidence as it was manifesting all fit with her earlier hunch. There was more going on at the Academy than on its face. They were all being placed under strategic psychological stresses beyond being expected to maintain peak performance for hours on end. They had to be. It wasn’t just Vasir; both of Shepard’s evaluations thus far had been aggravated by the presence of people who may as well have been hand-picked to make things harder on her. The last try had backfired spectacularly, though. That smartass turian, Vakarian, your typical eager young buck with everything to prove, had parked himself on her very last nerve and she’d had enough. Taking him down had been especially satisfying.

The look on his face when it had set in that he’d been beaten had brought her close to feeling the tiniest bit of remorse. Shepard hadn’t only unleashed the wrath he’d earned himself, but the combined weight of her frustrations over the past two days. Not that she would have thrown the fight to save his pride, but it had made her briefly consider the possibility that he hadn’t deserved the full impact of her biotics-amplified output. She could see by the way he’d tried to hide the flinch as he’d gotten up that she’d genuinely injured him. But then he’d gone and thrown a whole ass fit over it, refusing to accept his comeuppance. The pity had gone out of her before it had had a chance to take root.

Vakarian had underestimated her. Mocked her to her face for no good damned reason, and then when she’d put him in his place he’d tried to get Kryik to side with him. It was no different than Vasir’s bland dismissiveness. No less intolerable than Nika’s veritable singularity of an ego.

They could all go to hell. She was going to show every last one of them who she was, and then anyone else who wanted some for good measure.

She didn’t have another session scheduled for the next block, and used the time to decompress alone in her quarters with a shower and comedy vids. Mostly she stared for a while out the window at the stretch of empty plains beyond. The Academy was situated several miles outside Cyone’s capital city, itself a decent size but no sprawling metropolis. Maybe this weekend she could drive out into the wide open nowhere and just enjoy nature for a while. Or find something she could utterly and remorselessly destroy with her biotics. Either option would make her feel better. It took forever, but finally her alarm chimed that it was time to go.

Williams was already there at the firing range when Shepard arrived, and Alenko showed up a few minutes later. The sleek building smelled pleasantly familiar, the air permeated by gun oil and ozone. It was smaller in area than most on the compound but consisted of four levels, three of them underground. Occasional booms and vibrations from somewhere below told Shepard that at least one of the floors had to be where her heavy weapons eval would be held later.

Williams specialized in shotguns just like Shepard, while Alenko was going to be doing his assessment with pistols on the other half of the range. The candidates weren’t going to be using live rounds; rather they would be equipped with a specialized sim ammo developed by Armax that, when combined with a specialized VI, not only tracked shots but calculated hypothetical damage to the holographic targets. They would know with maximal accuracy which of their shots would have been the most incapacitating or deadly, based on comprehensive anatomical data for each species.

The trio had time to catch one another up on the basic details of their various experiences of the day. Ash had just completed her ranged rifle eval here at the range, while Alenko had been busy at his own biotics eval. Shepard listened to their respective laments at neither of the two having secured an S-Tier rank yet, and consciously avoided mentioning her own. Alenko had been impeded thanks to a migraine flare-up, whereas Williams was blaming what she claimed to be a biased turian evaluator.

“Sure doesn’t help that turians are poor fucking winners,” Williams griped as she cued up her inferno ammo mod. “Wouldn’t stop rubbing it in my face. Yeah, I got B-Tier, but among the highest rated snipers here. Assholes.”

Shepard cocked a brow over at her as she tweaked a few settings on her own firearm. “I’ve had to deal with several assholes today, and they’ve all been different species. Assholery is a pretty universal thing.”

“Yeah, but turians have all gone pro,” Williams snorted back. “I’m pretty sure it was because someone heard my name and remembered who my granddad was. They were all talking some shit over in the corner. None of them had the balls to say anything to my face.”

“Do turians-” Alenko started to say, then scanning his companions’ faces, shook his head. “Nope, never mind.”

“They only win if you let it get to you,” Shepard said.

“They already won thirty years ago as far as they’re concerned. That’s the whole problem.”

“You know,” Alenko interjected, “There was this turian woman in my last session. Kandros, I think. She could tell I was hurting and made a point to check up on me. Offered to get me medigel, not that it would have done anything. She ended up in S-Tier and I had only gotten to A-Tier, but she still commended me for working through it.”

“Congrats, you found one non-asshole turian out of several billion,” Williams snarked.

“We get it, Williams,” Shepard said, having already run through today’s patience. “Humans good, turians bad.”

“I didn’t say-” Williams started to argue, but Spectre Rix had arrived, informing the assembled candidates that they were to get set up and begin immediately. Ash sneered. “Dammit. Him again.”

Shepard held her tongue. Instead, the two of them filed into adjoining stalls, Williams still fuming and muttering nastiness under her breath. Rix directed their attention to the electronic displays lit up above, which would be detailing a series of instructions and a timer for each of a series of shooting challenges. The first was a series of targets that were going to manifest randomly at gradually increasing distance, and candidates were to completely disable them all within a set time. Easy enough. Shepard rolled her shoulders a few times, followed by ther neck, as the start counter ticked down.

“If I had to guess, Williams, I’d say no one thinks anywhere near as much about Shangxi as you do.”

“With all due respect, Shepard,” Williams raised her shotgun as the challenge began and fired off her first series of shots, “Bullshit. I don’t expect you to know what it’s like to grow up with that hanging over your head, but spoiler alert, you’re wrong.”

“Fair enough. I don’t know what that’s like.” Shepard mowed down her multi-species series of targets, more than one of them representing Batarians. It took her back to the colony she’d grown up on, and the indelible moment Batarian slavers had taken it all away from her. It crossed her mind to bring that into the conversation, but this wasn’t the despair Olympics. “But keeping that chip on your shoulder is only going to keep holding you down. Speaking of shoulders, you’re tightening up too much. Breathe.”

“Fuck off,” Williams exhaled, but smiling, and fired again. Her second challenge round was a marked improvement, but she still slumped afterwards, her barrel dropping to point at the ground. “You wanna know what it really is, though? The longer I’m here, the more I realize I don’t have a chance in hell. Those turians being dicks just made it more obvious. I wanted to try because I thought that maybe becoming the first human Spectre was a great way to prove to everyone I wasn’t just some coward’s granddaughter. See how well that’s working out.”

“Surrendering Shanxi wasn’t cowardice. Lean forward more, not back.” Shepard scanned the couple of lines of directions that lit up above her, and when the timer reached zero both she and Williams threw up her barrels in sync and unloaded at a seemingly endless parade of fast-approaching Krogan-shaped targets, blasting off rounds until their heat sinks were fully spent.

“I’ve been shooting probably longer than you,” Williams growled through a small smile that faded after a second. “In the end I know my granddad made the right call. And maybe you know that. But almost no one else thinks so, and I’ve gotten to hear about it my whole life. And when I go back to duty after this, I’m going to keep hearing it.”

The next challenge was a chaotic scene of mixed targets and non-targets. The VI was sophisticated to the point that some of the animated targets dodged behind non-targets now and again for cover. Shepard still managed to clear her field in plenty of time, with Williams finishing hers shortly after.

“Maybe. But you still chose to enlist all on your own, Williams. You knew you were going to get shit thrown at you, and you had the guts to sign up anyway. You also know damn well it’s not any particular turian’s fault,” Shepard said.

“Here we go with the ‘very special episode,’” Williams rolled her eyes hard and laughed, shaking her head. “You’re making me glad you were never my commander.”

“Never say never,” Shepard grinned at her, and Williams laughed.

“God fucking forbid.”

A half hour or so later they were finished, and reunited with Alenko while they waited for their ranking announcements. Eventually Rix walked out of the side office and the group gathered around in a semi-circle. Everyone was dismissed after he’d read their name. He began with the B-Tier rankings, moving upward from the bottom. He made it through the list and the three humans were all still there, which made Williams shoot Shepard an expression of bald surprise. Shepard returned with a wry grin. Rix read through the A-Tier list and once again, none of them heard their names. Alenko was beaming, and Shepard sensed Williams’ body stiffen next to her in exhilarated disbelief. Once the lower Tier candidates had cleared out, Rix surveyed the mixed race group of about a dozen before him, reading up through their names. Shepard was at the very top, but the others weren’t too far below her.

“You have my congratulations, S-Tier candidates. I look forward to seeing your progress over the next few weeks.” He clipped off a nod and exited.

“Holy shit,” Williams turned, looking between Alenko and Shepard manically. “Holy shit.”

Alenko took a chance and spread his arms open, offering celebratory hugs. The elated atmosphere spurred both women to accept, all of them exchanging quick embraces about the shoulders. Alenko erupted with a spontaneous laugh of elation. “Now we’ve all got bragging rights forever, if nothing else.”

“See, Williams?” Shepard nudged her with an elbow. “Don’t count yourself out yet. By the way, you still wanna go tell the Spectre he’s an asshole?”

Williams smirked and shoved Shepard with a shoulder. Alenko manifested a near hyperactive, exuberant mood from their experience that carried him all the way to when they congregated later that evening for dinner. He hadn’t seemed to have stopped grinning.

“I hear there’s a shindig planned in the city this Saturday,” Alenko was saying as they finished their plates. “The Academy booked out a club and everything, just so there’d be enough space. Could be a lot of fun.”

“Enh. I’m not much the clubbing type,” Williams replied.

“You were talking about really needing a drink this weekend. I’m sure they'll have plenty of booze, if nothing else.” Alenko countered, then looked to the commander. “You should come too, Shepard.”

Shepard grinned and bellowed a laugh. “I was planning on doing some cathartic blowing up of things, actually.”

“Clubbing is less explosive, sure,” he held up one hand, then alternated to the other, “but there’s also not usually as much collateral damage. That is, unless things get really crazy. But I get the feeling you wouldn’t mind that too much.”

Shepard pushed away from the table, her focus zeroing in on the dessert selections. “I’ll give it some thought over a couple slices of that cheesecake. Anyone else want something while I’m up?”

Williams downed the cider she’d gotten with dinner. “Not me. I'm not as lucky as you guys; that shit goes straight to my ass.”

There was a line when Shepard reached the dessert island, which she was nearly to the front of when she heard a gratingly familiar voice loaded with forced charm call from behind her.

“Well, ahoy, A-Tier!”

She pretended not to hear, instead scooping one more slice than she’d been previously planning for onto her plate. Maybe she could take a trip to the gym later and dedicate an hour or so on the heavy-bag to ruminations of Nika’s existence. Clearly not content with being ignored, the younger woman sidled around to the other side of the table. Ryssa was hanging lazily off of her, but the asari’s fascinated eyes were dancing over the spread of carbohydrate bombs below. Nika picked up an entire lava cake and forcefully stabbed a fork into it, staring hard into Shepard as she did. She passed it off to her companion as the chocolate syrup oozed out of it. Ryssa squealed in delight as she accepted it. Nika cleared her throat.

“You know, for all I’ve ever heard about you, I really expected you to be more on my level. You were supposed to be a real badass.”

Shepard knew better than to take the bait, but as she moved along out of the line she shot Nika a moderated glare.

“I’d have to time travel back ten years and implant my head up my own ass to get to your level,” she retorted. This only further amused Nika, whose eyes lit up at the rejoinder. The look of someone who badly wanted to start something.

“Yeesh, Shep. I know I’m no soldier, but I’m sorry it bothers you that I could put you through a bulkhead without breaking a sweat.”

Shepard stopped and turned with dark intent to face her aspiring nemesis, planting her feet just as she would before throwing a shockwave and passing her plate to her off hand. She activated her ‘do not fuck with me’ voice, clenched her right fist and tilted her head down, glaring up from under her eyebrows.

“Try.”

Nika looked taken aback for half a second. Ryssa’s face, which had moments before been hosting a goading smile, had frozen into an expression of genuine concern. The moment passed and Nika recovered herself, breaking into a sharp, defensive laugh.

“Damn, Shepard, lighten the fuck up. It’s almost like you’ve never had anyone bust your chops before.”

“Not anyone less qualified to do so than you.” Shepard uttered levelly. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she tilted her head. The tension eased back from deadly to warning. “Where did you even come from, anyway? Made in a lab somewhere by some biocorp long on funds and short on sanity?”

Nika’s face took on a self-satisfied smirk, acting as though she took Shepard’s question as a playful joke. “Oh, nothing like that. I just happen to have a particularly beneficial mutation. My genes are for humanity what whatever common ancestor that made all asari into biotics was for them.”

“You must feel so special.”

“I really do,” she gave an over-exaggerated sigh that oozed contentment, leaning her head onto the top of Ryssa’s. “Don’t act like you don’t, with your N7.”

“The difference is I earned it.”

“Uh, I busted my ass in combat training just like you, I just didn’t earn any special kudos for it. Nah. You were born with your biotic ability just like me. You got a top of the line implant, just like me. You’re just salty because after everything, I’m still better at this than you.”

Shepard ground her molars. The conceit Shepard could deal with, but this bitch had the very gall to believe that life and death combat situations were no different, no more significant than high-rate tutors and training sims. Nika had found the right buttons and was smashing them like an out-of-control toddler in an elevator. _She wants a reaction,_ Shepard reminded herself, and her mind erupted with several possible reactions at once. Her favorite involved demonstrating just how overconfident Nika was with a maxed out biotic punch to her smarmy little face. _No. You will NOT give her what she wants. This is all going to work itself out in six weeks._

Shepard let her expression relax into her best poker face, and stabbed a hunk of cheesecake, pushing it into her mouth. She went through the whole process of chewing and swallowing while maintaining silent eye contact, then turned and went back to where Williams and Alenko had been staring intently at the interaction.

“Who the hell was that?” Williams asked. Shepard scowled out into space as she took her indignation out on the cheesecake.

“Absolutely no one at all.”


	6. Chapter 6

Several stories up in the sniping tower that sat just west of the firing range proper, Garrus was on his final test and running short on time.

In his heart, he knew he could make this shot. He knew because he’d managed to make a similar, marginally more difficult one at least once before, a year or two ago on a dare back at the Citadel. But today his mind was racing, and he couldn’t force himself into his zone. He lifted the barrel anyway, staring 3,000 meters down his sights to a low hill, where an orange glowing target danced in his visor’s HUD, taunting him.

_“This is exactly when you try harder. This is when you pull yourself together and you do it.”_

_Inhale. Aim. Exhale. Fire._ Several seconds later, a ping informed him that the shot had registered just to the right of the target by centimeters. Damn it all.

_“If you stop now, if you give up on something when it gets hard, you’re never going to make it anywhere in life.”_

“Shut up, Dad,” he muttered to his memory as he lined up his sights again. Because long-ago lectures from his father were exactly what he needed to be stuck in his head right now. He sucked in another deep breath, feeling his heartbeat slow. He closed his eyes for a long moment, willing the tension out of his muscles. He slowly opened his eyes and exhaled. And-

“Fuck!” yelled a voice somewhere to his left. His face clenched and his arms jumped as he reflexively pulled his finger away from the trigger. His nerves went all pins and needles as he cursed back under his breath. The instructions dictated that he had to make this shot on one heat sink. That was two rounds, two total chances. He'd already wasted the first.

_“Do things right, Garrus. Or don’t do them at all.”_

He growled irritably and set the rifle down, picking up a bottle of water and struggling with the lid. His fingers were twitching sporadically of their own accord. Why the hell was this happening to him? He was finding himself increasingly incapable of doing what he knew damn well he could do. His nerves were eating themselves alive. _It’s not as though succeeding here is one of your biggest dreams, or anything,_ he mused sarcastically at himself. _Or that failing will just prove dad was right all along._

His father’s passing hadn’t exactly been a cause for celebration, but in honesty had been at least partially a relief. It had had the effect of giving Garrus permission, in a sense, to enlist here. But he was starting to realize it wasn’t enough that his dad wasn’t around anymore to make his opinions known. He’d done such a thorough job before his death that Garrus was still doing it subconsciously to himself. Maybe the programming the old man had drilled into him was just hardcoded into his brain, now. He’d managed to temporarily shut his run-in with Shepard out, but Castis’s influence was still deeply rooted in his insecurities.

And...there he was thinking about Shepard again. He briefly entertained the idea of imagining it was her out there instead of the holographic interface target. But, even for his grudge against her, he quickly realized that was a little extreme. And it probably wouldn’t have helped him, anyway. She was just more noise among the million other little stressors in his head.

Garrus didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping the rifle’s barrel as he stared out at the field until a clearing throat interrupted his stream of consciousness. He turned to see Senairis’s eyes considering him quietly. She must have finished her own evaluation already. Because of course she had.

“Sen,” he greeted her. “I, ah, was just...”

“Having trouble?” she asked. Her words were gentle, compassionate, strongly dissonant to the raw power he knew was stored in her and the stoic quiet of her usual demeanor. And delivered in the exact opposite manner of which Castis would have approached Garrus’ situation.

“Yeah,” Garrus admitted. “I can’t seem to get out of my head right now, but I’ll be okay. Thanks.”

“Would it help you to talk about it?”

Garrus looked away. He found that he appreciated her concern, but he wasn’t in any frame of mind to share his vulnerabilities with her.

“Probably not,” he shrugged. It was the truth.

Sen nodded at him, reaching out and placing a careful hand lightly on his shoulder. It had the unintended side effect of subconsciously reminding him that she was the taller of them, even if by just a little. “We all have our off days. Try not to beat yourself up over it. Okay?”

Garrus looked down at the rifle. For whatever reason, he was feeling awkward that the woman had felt compelled to come over to him at all. How bad was he doing comparatively that another candidate was taking pity on him?

“Thanks, Sen. Won’t be a problem.” That may not have been the truth.

“Sure,” she replied, and he tried not to read doubt from her voice.

“Senairis,” a stern voice called from outside the sniper box. The both of them turned to see Spectre Rix, his usually calm and amiable face gone stern. He gestured at her with his head. “Candidates are to wait in the lobby when you’re finished. And not interfere with another candidate’s progress.”

“We were just talking,” she responded, and he only glowered deeper. She didn’t argue further, following his directive under protest. As she left his view, Garrus felt himself shrinking a little under the Spectre’s gaze.

“Ten minutes, Vakarian.”

“Yes, sir,” Garrus’ head bobbed once in response. But Rix didn’t immediately leave, instead lingering for a moment.

“You know,” the Spectre said, his tone back to what Garrus was used to, “I’ve read your statistics, Vakarian. If you can’t complete this part of the testing today, I could always default to your confirmed personal record.”

Garrus’ heart skipped lightly. Was Spectre Rix offering him an out? It had sounded an awful lot like it, even if it was hard to believe. He couldn’t lie to himself, there was part of him that would have loved to finally catch a break like that. But like a reflex, something else answered that wouldn’t allow him to accept it. Not just his father’s glares in the back of his head, but his own, internal drive. He had to at least try.

“Thank you, sir, but I can do this,” he replied. He hoped that maybe if he could convince Rix that was true, he could convince himself. The Spectre assessed him for a moment before nodding.

“Understood. See you below.”

Garrus lined up his shot again. _Don’t think about how much time you have left. Don’t think about dad. Don’t think about Shepard-_

 _No._ Something occurred to him. Maybe do think about Shepard. He thought about when he was going to get his second chance going toe to toe with her. He imagined her reaction to when he advanced to the next stage, and she didn’t. This very shot was going to get him one step closer to that achievement, to making that moment a reality. He smiled a little. Just picturing it was helping to override most of his anxiety. He peered through his visor, down his sight three kilometers to his target.

_Inhale. Aim. Exhale. Fire._

Several minutes later he was downstairs, reveling in not only his second S-Tier ranking, but having come out at the top of the list. He’d been the only one to make the culminating shot that day. Even Sen hadn’t managed it, though she hadn’t bothered to say so earlier. He wasn’t sure if anything would have gone differently if she had, and in retrospect what she had said to him made more sense.

Garrus regaled Ky, Kandros, and a handful of other curious admirers with the story of his success later at dinner. He left out the detail of his profuse self-doubts leading up to it, which would have done little but diminish the storytelling factor anyway. Senairis, who’d actually sought them out to sit with them, corroborated his tale with a proud smile. He got a heavy clap on his back and was peppered with enthusiastic requests for more elaboration as a reward, which he was more than happy to provide. The mental stumble from the afternoon was all but forgotten. He was back.

Ky soon excused himself to his omniblade evaluation, and the rest of the crowd dissipated soon after without the magnetic attraction of the man’s overflowing charisma. That left only Garrus and Kandros. He fidgeted with his drinking glass, listening to her own story about having been shuffled off into a Cabal after her biotics had manifested and leading her to eventually leave the service at her first opportunity. He listened, but with the trepidation of building himself up to taking a chance.

“Hey. If, ah, you’re not too busy tonight, maybe we could find somewhere to drink something?”

Kandros blinked at him, frowning. “What?”

“I- erm,” he stammered, blood flushing up into his face behind his plates. Dammit, just seconds ago his confidence had peaked, and now he was already fumbling his words. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Nothing. Forget it.”

Her eyes slowly widened, and she sucked in a breath. “Oh. You meant ‘go get drinks’.”

“That, yes,” Garrus replied with an awkward half-laugh. “It’s...fine, though. You probably have other things you need to do.”

“I do, actually,” she replied, rising from her seat. “But it was nice of you to ask. Maybe we can do that another time. As...friendly acquaintances?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course” he muttered with a warm affect and mixed emotion as she glided away. He picked at his Altakiril beef dumplings a few more minutes alone, idly watching the milling crowds for a while in silence, reminiscing on his brief flirtation with fame. He finished off his Tupari bottle in one go before heaving a sigh and pushing up from the table. He didn’t have any other evaluations on his schedule, meaning he had a whole evening’s worth of finding a way to entertain himself to look forward to. As mentally fatigued as he started to realize he was, maybe spending a night in was the best plan after all.

Garrus reached his quarters and as he went to lift his omnitool, he stopped. The door didn’t look set quite right. He leaned in for a closer inspection, and sure enough, what should have been a flush seal showed a sliver of light from within. He became acutely aware of his heartbeat picking up in his throat. These doors were secure and standard; it ought to have taken a full-grown Krogan to misalign it that way. He looked each way down the hall in vain hope that someone may pass by who had some idea of what had happened. No one. Garrus closed his eyes and mentally stepped back into his C-Sec training.

His eyes first swept the hallway ceiling. He’d noticed when first arriving that while there were cameras at the main building entrance, none existed inside the halls. What had seemed like a curious detail before struck him as a distinct oversight now.

When he went to unlock the door, the holo display for the lock flashed orange, a hazard sign, confirming his suspicions. He pressed his back to the wall just behind the door frame, waiting. After a moment the servos managed to get the door back on its track, and as it hissed open Garrus wished he had his service pistol on him. He slowly leaned in, peering around to survey the layout. No movement, no sound. Nothing looked immediately out of place, which wasn’t at all surprising since their living situation here was rather spartan.

Garrus leaned in, stepping around the frame carefully before closing the door behind himself. He did a thorough sweep that took only a few minutes, and was soon certain he was alone. So, if anyone had been in here illicitly, they weren’t anymore. He checked the windows, all of which were still locked from the inside. He opened each of the storage cabinets, carefully, as there was just enough space for a smaller person to hide in. Empty. Hm.

He still had the program on his omnitool from his C-Sec days for sweeping a room for surveillance devices. He glanced to the front door again before firing it up, and got to work. He quickly eliminated the bathroom and kitchenette, moving on to the bedroom. He went to Kandros’ closet first, then Ky’s. Nothing, not a sensor twinge. Garrus was just beginning to believe he was being paranoid when he reached his own closet, and the sensor pinged. He froze, straightening up. No.

He opened the sliding door and swept through the space inside. Nothing was missing or disturbed from last he’d left it. He raised his omnitool to the roof of the closet, and the ping grew stronger. He hovered it over to where the signal was stronger, using his other hand to feel along the flat surface. He knew something was there now, even as he swept his hand over the top side of the cabinet several times and came away with nothing. Then it occurred to him, and he moved his fingers to the front lip inside the open door frame. They slid for several centimeters until they hit a flat, sharp-textured bump. He quickly grabbed it, scratching it off the surface with the flat side of a talon and pulling it out into the light.

For the half second he got a look at it, he recognized the device. It was a type of sophisticated listening bug, the likes of which he’d run into multiple times on the Citadel. They were exceedingly stealthy, only about a centimeter wide and a millimeter thin, and exceedingly illegal. Most of the time he would track back their use to gangs or wealthy, jealous romantic partners, if he was able to track them at all.

Then, just as they sometimes did, it flared a bright red and erupted into a small, quickly self-extinguishing spark. He jerked his hand, the miniscule explosion sending a smarting sting through the fingertip that was now covered in a light dusting of blackened ash. Ah. It was the self-destructing kind. Those were even more spendy.

As he rubbed the dust with his thumb and stared at it, he had to wonder. Why? It simply didn’t make sense for someone to spy on him, let alone here. He couldn’t fathom how it was smuggled here in the first place, being that all of his belongings had been subjected to very rigorous screening and he had to assume that everyone else’s had been as well. It could have come from someone landing in the main city and passing it off to someone here, but the compound was heavily secure and guarded, and as far as he knew, no one had come or gone in the past few days.

He thought back to the door, once again considering the kind of force needed to do such a thing in the first place. It would take a Krogan. Or…

Or a sufficiently powerful biotic.

Garrus’ mind flashed to Shepard instantly. But, ultimately, that didn’t make sense either. There was just no motive. She couldn’t possibly feel threatened by him, or carry the same grudge against him that he did for her. Plus, there were literally hundreds of other powerful biotics on the compound to consider, though they had even less of a connection to him than Shepard. A part of him wanted badly to suspect her, but his sensibilities needed more evidence. If it was there, he was going to find it.

He ran through possible avenues in his head. He could speak to Ky or even Spectre Rix, explain what he found, and hope he was believed. Perhaps he could sway the Spectre to have the security cameras for the building entrance checked, just in case. But he didn’t have the device anymore. The door had automatically readjusted itself. And based on the various couplings he’d noticed between candidates, there could have been a dozen or more non-residents entering the building at any given time in the past twelve or so hours since he’d left. And whomever had planted this thing would know soon, if not already, that it was no longer in commission. If they were smart, they were going to be more careful next time.

So for the time being, he had nothing. He recalled how often he’d been in similar conundrums back at C-Sec, how often it had gotten him stonewalled and brushed off by his superiors. Bile rose in his gullet. It would be too hard a sell. He needed more to go on, enough to convince a Spectre. But at least this was a start.

He was paying attention now.


	7. Chapter 7

“Williams. You’re going to look at me and say ‘psych,’ right now.”

Shepard’s roommate had made an excuse when they’d departed the compound that they needed to run a quick errand, and that they’d meet Alenko at the club after. When their cab pulled up in front of a clothing retail outlet with far too much neon and crystal ornamentation on the front of it, Shepard had turned to glare daggers at Williams.

“Calm your ass, Shepard. It’s not a big deal. You can’t go clubbing dressed like that. I won’t let you.”

Shepard glanced down at her synth-fiber N7 pants and tank top. It was the most versatile outfit she had in her wardrobe, even before coming to the Academy. “What’s wrong with this? And who the hell is going to care?”

“Everything, and I do. Just be a grownup and come in with me. This’ll take twenty minutes, tops.”

“You could have said something before we left,” Shepard groused, reluctantly climbing out of the cab with Williams doing the same shortly after.

“You would have made up some excuse not to go at all. It kind of blows my mind that you didn’t bring a single dress.” Williams herself was wearing a number that was form-fitted and a metallic blue that complemented her hair and skin tone nicely.

Shepard rolled their eyes as they entered the boutique. The place smelled too strongly of floral perfume and the synthy pop music was much too brainlessly cheerful. “I packed my dress blues on the off chance I needed to dress up.”

“Well you sure as hell can’t wear those to a club.”

“Sorry it didn’t occur to me that I might need to bring partying clothes while I was being vetted for the Spectre program.”

Williams made a straight line to a rack with a number of cocktail-style dresses in a limited palette of colors that must have been ‘in’ this season. Not something Shepard was typically inclined to give a damn about.

“Well, maybe it should have,” Williams deadpanned, holding a garment up in front of an unamused Shepard. She then shook her head, put it back and continued digging. An asari clerk with a brilliant smile came trotting over, but Williams was quick to inform her they didn’t need her help.

“This is ridiculous,” Shepard sighed. Ashley came back with something that was a flowy, shimmering and vivid green.

“Noted. What about this one? Brings out your eyes.”

Shepard threw her hands out to her sides and shook her head, her expression bland. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you think.”

Williams cocked her head at Shepard impatiently. “Shepard. Your N7 isn’t going to fall off just because you dressed nice once. We could all use a break after this week, and I’d like to go out with friends and celebrate kicking some ass. So can you tone down the no-nonsense hardass for one night of drinking and shenanigans?”

Shepard almost came back with something cutting, then heaved a deep sigh and closed her eyes.

“Fine. And no, if we’re really doing this, I’m drawing the line at sparkly.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Williams replied and went back to digging through the rack. She pulled a simple, elegant number out and handed it off to Shepard.

“There. Can’t go wrong with black. Go try it on. Oh, and what’s your shoe size?”

Shepard slunk miserably back to the fitting rooms, and Williams had added a pair of low heels to the purchase by the time she’d come back out. She hurried through the rest of the requisite shopping process, not wanting to spend one second longer here than she had to. She made Williams pay the bill, since it had all been her idea to begin with. Williams agreed on the condition that she wouldn’t be paying for her own drinks later. Shepard changed there in the store on Williams’ insistence and then hurried out. She had to pull down at the hem of the form-fitting dress a few times uncomfortably as the two women made their way back out and called another cab.

Once inside, Williams produced a brush from somewhere mysterious and reached over, starting to pull Shepard’s hair out of its bun. Shepard started to fight her off valiantly, but Williams was persistent.

“What more do you want from me?” Shepard demanded. Williams had taken on a feral grin.

“Well, since you asked, I brought makeup in my bag, too. Just the basics.”

“Williams, if you don’t want flying lessons you’re going to choose to keep your hands to yourself.”

Williams mulled that over, then held the brush up again. “Fine, I’ll cede the makeup, but I’m doing your hair.”

“Why are you like this?” Shepard hissed as Williams grabbed hold of one of her shoulders.

“I have sisters. This is standard.”

Shepard was still sulking when the cab reached the club. It was already bustling with activity, candidates entering in a steady stream of bodies while some waited outside. Alenko was among them, waving one arm wide to his companions when his eyes caught them approaching. Shepard adjusted her dress a few more times awkwardly, her dark auburn hair billowing down around her shoulders in the light breeze. He gave them both a restrained, approving smile.

“You both look very lovely,” he greeted them with a small bow. He was wearing a set of plain black slacks and a fitted black shirt, not all that different from what Shepard had left their quarters in. Shepard shot Williams an acid stare as Alenko gestured for them to go in ahead of him. Their Academy ID’s were checked at the door by a bruque looking Krogan security guard, and then they passed through a second set of doors into the club proper.

The building was practically a refitted warehouse, which it would have had to have been to house the several hundred Spectre hopefuls mingling about within. The music was booming, heavy on synth and base, and the air was stiflingly humid. The ambient lighting was a cool mix of neon blues, purples and accented with electric green lights that danced around over the crowd in rippling patterns. The dance floor sank down in four or five terraced levels towards the center, where a central stage surrounded by six smaller stages made for the club’s centerpiece. A number of asari and a few humans were making use of the dancing poles that embellished each stage, and by Shepard’s assessment they weren’t paid entertainment but other patrons from the Academy.

Most of the attendees were turian or asari, along with what she guessed were most of the human candidates, and very few salarians. Shepard slid her way through the crowd, stepping into the slim openings between patrons as she moved. She made a direct line for the first empty table she saw, close to the outer wall and in a shadowed alcove. Perfect.

“I’ll get us a tab started,” Alenko volunteered, knocking on the table before heading off towards the bar. Williams slid into the bench seat next to Shepard.

“See? Not so bad.”

“You know, I recall you saying you weren’t the clubbing type,” Shepard sniped. Williams laughed.

“Well, to clarify, for most people clubbing involves dancing and finding a hookup. I’m perfectly fine with the drinking and shooting the shit kind of clubbing.”

As her eyes moved across the crowd again, her gut recoiled as she recognized one of the revelers on the center stage. Nika was up there dancing, Ryssa or some similar-looking asari along with her. Both her club attire and her ‘dancing’ veered on questionably indecent, and a not-insignificant crowd of onlookers had gathered around below to watch. She very clearly was enjoying the attention. Dammit. Shepard couldn’t seem to escape the looming shadow of Nika’s obnoxious presence.

It was about then Alenko made it back with beer already in hand, craning his neck to watch the performing biotic as his hands found and pulled out his seat.

“Really?” Shepard snarked, causing his head to snap back, face full of half-smiling chagrin.

“Oh. Uh, well. She’s...talented,” he muttered in excuse as he sat. “Ahem. Anyway, here’s the order menu. You just make your selections and they'll bring the drinks over.”

“Finally,” Shepard breathed, taking the datapad from Alenko and starting to look over the offerings. He shifted a little in his seat, glancing at Shepard.

“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in dancing later?”

Shepard had to catch herself. Dancing was decidedly not found anywhere among Shepard’s skills or hobbies. Her knee-jerk reactions oscillated between a violent glare and bursting into laughter at the very thought, but she realized he had just been trying to shoot his shot. He was a nice enough guy, and she wasn’t totally oblivious to his interest in her. It had been plenty long since she’d had even a casual sort of entanglement, and she wouldn’t normally be opposed to something quick and casual. But besides not feeling that sort of inclination toward him, he didn’t strike her as the casual type.

“Let’s not subject any of these nice people to having to see that,” she chuckled instead.

“Oh, it can’t be that bad, Shepard.”

“It most definitely can, I assure you.”

“So. Anyone want to speculate on what we’re going to be doing for Week Two?” Williams jumped in to Shepard’s rescue. “They’ve been pretty secretive about it so far. I get the feeling like we’re being herded to a cliff.”

“I’m there with you,” Shepard nodded. “This is the Spectre program we’re talking about. I’m thinking this first week was just a warmup. Alenko, if you’re that interested, go over and get her number already. I’m sure she’ll be very flattered. But I warn you, she's ten kilos of crazy in a five kilo bag.”

Alenko’s head snapped away from the dance floor again. “Huh? Uh, I mean, I wasn’t-”

“Isn’t that the chick you were getting into it with the other day?” Williams asked, gesturing off towards Nika. Alenko made a very concerted effort to stare very deeply into the marbled tabletop as he nursed his drink. Shepard rubbed at the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah. She’s just some overclocked biotic from one of my evaluations. She’s also a smartass narcissist and a pain in my ass. Can we not talk about her for, say, the entire rest of the night? Or even better, ever again?”

“Wait. So, she’s a powerful biotic, a dancer, and has, I assume, a superiority complex. How is she any different from an off-color asari?”

That actually made Shepard laugh despite herself as she scrolled a third time through the surprisingly profuse variety of drinks on offer. “That’s a little insulting to asari.”

“Oh, please. It’s accurate and you know it.”

“In any case,” Shepard redirected the conversation. “She’s never going to be a Spectre, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, anything’s possible,” Alenko started, raising his hands defensively when he got judgmental glares from both of his associates. “I’m just saying. Maybe she’s going for the femme fatale angle. She definitely has the skill set, and the charisma. There’s all kinds of Spectres out there.”

“That’s it,” Shepard said. “Alenko’s already had enough to drink. I’m officially putting you on ‘designated drunk people herder’ duty for the night.”

“Hey, that tab is under my credit chit,” he tried to protest, but she waved a hand.

“It’ll be one bottle, max.”

Williams went for the datapad she’d been eagerly waiting for, but Shepard pulled it away. “I already picked. Top shelf whiskey, the real stuff. You and I are going to see who ends up under the table first.”

“Oh, you are _on_ ,” Williams grinned.

\---

Garrus followed Kyeros into the deafening chaos that was the club, _Be’rah_ , immediately regretting his complacency in the matter. He was no stranger to scenes like this, but most often it had been while he was on duty and had had a purpose, as well as every reason to leave as soon as that business was finished. And this place was so packed that Garrus was starting to feel sure that it exceeded safety regulations. When he slowed in hesitation, Ky pushed a shoulder into his back and urged him forward.

“I’m buying tonight, so no worries there,” Ky was saying as he found them a couple of seats at the bar. Ky was donned in sleek attire that called back to his Blackwatch career, while Garrus had worn one of the couple of casual tunic/pants combos he’d brought along. Hitting up parties hadn’t been on his mind when he’d packed.

“Also,” Ky continued as the bartender poured him up his first drink. “I spotted a hotel down the street, if you happen to find someone you need some privacy with later. Just let me know before you take off so I don't go looking for you.”

“Doubtful,” Garrus muttered, perusing a menu. He didn’t drink often, but tonight seemed as good a night as any to cut loose. No one he’d spoken to had much of an inkling what the plan was for the second week’s trials, but it was sure to be grueling. He looked up after a moment, a little startled to see that Ky was staring intently at an asari/human couple off in the distance dancing in particularly intimate fashion with one another, on the center stage.

“Don’t tell me you’re into that,” he elbowed Ky, who looked to him a second before breaking into a grinning laugh.

“You’re not?”

Garrus shifted uncomfortably on his barstool at the question. “No. Never even occurred to me.”

“Kid, life’s too short and the galaxy’s too big to not let yourself try something different sometimes.”

Garrus recoiled from that idea and was briefly taken back to Ky’s suggestion days before, about the Spectre Nihlus being possibly not adverse to humans. He started to wonder if it was less conjecture and more the man’s own projecting. He did a quick mental about-face from that line of thought, not interested in seeing where it went. He turned his attention very deliberately to the menu, scanning each line slowly.

“Hrm. Oh, no _way_ ,” Ky nudged Garrus sharply. “Speaking of which, take a look. It’s your old friend from sparring.”

Garrus turned his head around sharply to where Ky was indicating. For a half second he didn’t register who it was that Ky was talking about, until he saw her. He almost didn’t recognize her immediately, in that form-accentuating outfit and with her long hair hanging loose all around her neck and shoulders instead of bound up. Her hair in particular was oddly, well, fascinating, stirring curiosity in him if it was as soft as it looked. He unconsciously clenched his glass a little tighter. Stop that.

“Rmf,” he grumbled into the last of his drink. “Thanks. I was almost starting to relax, there.”

“We should go over and say hi,” Ky huffed through a half smile.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Garrus scowled. “What manner of head injury could make that sound like a good idea?”

Ky laughed genuinely at his comment, then gathered himself, leaning in closer to Garrus conspiratorially. “It’s always a good idea to scout out the enemy when you have the opportunity, isn’t it?

Garrus set aside his instinctive refusal, considering the notion. After mulling it over for a moment, he realized it wasn’t the most terrible idea. Especially considering that she was his only current lead for the bug in his quarters, spurious as the connection was. He could eliminate her as a suspect, if nothing else. Alternatively, if he got lucky, he could glean something that may help him build a strategy for if they chanced to spar again. The humans at the table were all clearly a few drinks in themselves. Someone may end up saying something useful. He summoned up all of the initiative he had at his disposal, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah, you’re right, it is.”

“There we go,” Ky clapped Garrus’ back and hopped up with surprisingly liquid ease for his size, leading the way over with vigor. Garrus found himself feeling a little less sure of himself as they neared the table, and was three sets of eyes fell on him and Ky. None of them looked particularly happy to see them.

“Ah, shit,” he heard Shepard blurt upon realizing the two men had, in fact, been approaching her table, spiking an attitude of defiance in Garrus. He had the upper hand here, he told himself. Ky leaned over, pressing his palms into the table.

“Evening, Shepard,” he nodded amiably. The darker haired woman next to Shepard lifted an eyebrow.

“And who the hell are you?”

“Kyeros Quillan,” he replied easily, then nodded behind him to his left. “This is Garrus Vakarian. We had an eval with Shepard here this week.”

“Something like that,” Shepard grumbled. It was a bit gratifying to Garrus to have Shepard off balance and on her guard, this time. “What do you want?”

“Garrus and I discussed it, and agreed we acted dishonorably to you,” Ky replied without hesitation, tipping his head in a conciliatory fashion. Garrus turned a sharp look on him. The man’s bullshitting skills were first-rate. “We’d like to make apologies. Start fresh.”

Shepard exchanged a look with the woman next to her, then arched a brow up at them again. She didn’t look to be buying what Ky was selling, not just yet. “Why?”

“Just the right thing to do,” he shrugged without picking his hands up off the table. “That, and your capabilities are deserving of the appropriate respect.

Shepard’s eyes moved between Garrus and Ky for a moment, narrowing almost imperceptibly.

“Fine. But we’re having a drinking contest and we’re already four rounds in. You wanna sit, you better get caught up.”

Garrus almost gaped a little at her demand. That level of alcohol was going to implode the scheme he’d hatched. Had she suspected his motives and preempted him? That seemed rather unlikely. Ky, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate.

“Works for us,” he replied with hearty enthusiasm, spinning around one of the human-sized chairs so the back was facing the table and shoving Garrus into it. “Hang out a minute, I’ll go get some _horosk_ from the bar.”

And so Garrus was left alone at a table of humans, one of whom was his least favorite person for the time being. He cleared his throat and fidgeted while they all stared at him. The dark-haired woman spoke first.

“So Shepard. You’re telling me, at your hand-to-hand eval, these guys were dicks to you? I am _shocked_. Just, shocked, I say.”

Garrus went instantly on the defensive and started searching for something biting to reply, but Shepard spoke first.

“Not doing this tonight, Williams,” she retorted. “If they want to patch things up, let them.”

It took him by surprise. She’d almost defended him, just now, to one of her own. He hadn’t been ready for that turn of events.

“It’s...fine,” he replied. It was harder for him to do this than it seemed for Ky. “It was a miscommunication, but, we were...I was in the wrong.”

Shepard studied him for a moment. Probably trying to decide if she believed him or not. He wouldn’t have believed it himself a few minutes ago, except now he was having to reconsider his actions towards her. He didn’t relish doing so. They sat for a few more quiet, awkward minutes before Ky returned with a bottle and a pair of shot glasses, setting one in front of Garrus.

“Four, you said?” Ky asked. Shepard eyed him, then exchanged a look with Williams as she poured them each another shot. They clinked their glasses together and downed them in sync.

“Five,” Shepard declared, slamming her glass onto the table. Ky guffawed and clapped his hands, rubbing them together.

“You got it. But you'll have to take our word that we already had our first round over at the bar.” Ky threw back a shot, immediately pouring himself a second. Then a third, then a fourth, rapid fire like an automatic shotgun. Afterwards he guzzled down a bottle of water from the nearby station, rolling his shoulders nonchalantly. He peered sidelong at Garrus with a wink.

“Your turn, kid.”

“You know, actually,” Garrus countered, “One of us ought to take it easy. You know, for practical, end-of-the-night reasons.”

“Huh,” Williams snorted from her seat, smirking over at Shepard. “You know, I didn’t think turians were supposed to retreat. Guess that’s another stereotype.”

This time Shepard gave her a stern look, but didn’t say anything. Their other companion, Alenko, spoke up from the other side of Shepard.

“Apparently that’s my function tonight,” he offered with a resigned half-smile. “I can make sure we all get back in one piece.”

“Mighty considerate of you,” Ky thanked him.

The whole table appeared to be amused over Garrus’ hesitation. He heaved a deep breath, pouring himself his second drink of the night and the first on his way to more drunk than he’d been in...maybe ever. He’d better do what talking he’d planned on now, while he still could. He glanced up at Shepard as he raised his glass towards his mouth.

“You got me good in our match,” he admitted, downing the dark gold liquid with a cough. Spirits, but it had been a minute since he’d had _horosk_. He’d forgotten how hard it hit. The cons to his plan were starting to occur to him, too late. “How much would you say your biotics actually amplify your natural strength?”

Shepard tilted her head and smirked. For the first time, he realized the expression didn’t incite immediate umbrage in him. It looked almost, well, mischievous. Playful, in a way.

“You look to be about, what, 115 kilos? I wager I could squat you, just myself, no problem. With my biotics, probably quadruple that.” She and Williams bumped fists, not breaking eye contact with him.

Garrus almost overfilled his glass on the next pour, not having expected such easy openness from her and getting distracted by it. If Shepard had been so unguarded about her response, she may well have been not guilty. Well. Or underestimating him. His earlier hunch had been right, though; with her biotics she could almost certainly have forced his door if she’d really had the motivation. That last bit was the piece that was missing, and it was an important one. He swallowed down the next shot with a tight shake of his head, the previous drink starting to set in already. He really should have had more to eat at dinner. Maybe he could catch a passing server and beg off some snacks to staunch the speed of his intoxication.

“Oh ho,” Ky chortled at Shepard's claim. “This I _absolutely_ need to see.” His exuberance inspired murmurs of vocalized assent from Shepard’s companions. Oh no.

“No,” Garrus snapped quickly, then slowed himself. “That’s...really okay. I believe her.”

“Boo,” Williams replied, filling hers and Shepard’s glasses again. “Get a move on, Vakarian. We ain’t got all night.”

His thoughts were already starting to fuzz a little, his stress steadily leaking away along with the more acute of his cognitive faculties. He clumsily spilled a bit as he filled the glass again. One more drink. Or was it two? Right, two. Damn. Then once he’d caught up, they were all going to keep going, hopefully at a considerably slower pace. He could manage this. Maybe.

“Which one of you three do you think would win in a fight?” Ky was asking them, taking a bit of the heat off Garrus for a moment. He took his next two shots while Ky and the humans bantered, trying to figure out how he was going to keep doing this. Ky seemed to be handling his own alcohol exceptionally well, but at the same time didn’t seem to care to discuss anything of strategic relevance. Damn it all. Hadn’t that been the point of coming over here? Garrus started to feel himself relaxing deeply, time stretching out lazily before him. Why had he thought this was a good idea? A few minutes later, he was wondering why he’d been so worried about it.

“So,” Shepard said, nodding to the emblem on Ky’s tunic as they set up the next full round of shots, everyone having gotten up to speed. Garrus couldn’t remember exactly what round that was. “You’re Blackwatch, huh?”

“Oh, that. Yeah. I was,” Ky’s words were slurring a little. What he'd said caught Garrus’ notice. _Was?_ What did he mean by that? He turned his head, looking sidelong at Ky who was zoning out, his eyes unfocusing briefly before he suddenly snapped back like nothing had happened. “There was this one time, my unit and I were stalking this terrorist cell-”

While Ky launched into his story, Garrus noticed the human Alenko had become thoroughly distracted by something in the direction of the dance floor. Garrus followed his gaze, immediately noticing the other human woman from earlier. She wasn’t with the asari anymore. Instead, she’d dragged a turian woman onto the stage with her, along with a chair, and was giving her an outright lap dance to the sultry music. In full view of everyone. There were cheers and whistles of encouragement coming from below her. The turian’s head lolled back as the human dragged her tongue along her carapace, and Garrus immediately recognized the crimson face paint. Kandros.

His throat was suddenly thick, making it hard to swallow. The heavy sensuality of the human moving intimately over her, the allure of how much Kandros looked to be enjoying every moment of it that made him wish he were closer. Finally, the human pulled herself into Kandros’ lap, straddling her. He imagined for a second through his inebriated thoughts that the human grinned seductively right at him before pressing her open mouth right over Kandros’s. His roommate’s hands started to slide over the human’s body, up under her shirt that already exposed so much it seemed pointless, over that skin that looked incredibly soft. As the human slowly pulled her face away, he could see that her lips had been closed around Kandros’ tongue, sliding back from it suggestively until it was free again.

Something surged through Garrus in that moment. A revelation of sorts that he was too drunk to fully grasp or resist. The woman was grinding on Kandros now, putting her mouth on her again and again, the noise from their audience escalating sharply.

“We got a Code 314,” Ky’s laughing voice brought him back to reality. He looked over to him, his eyes bleary. Then he chanced to glance across the table, becoming generally aware that Shepard was staring at him too. The _horosk_ was hitting too hard now, and he couldn’t determine what her expression was communicating. But he was lucid enough to know she’d had to have noticed exactly what he’d been staring at. And that now he was staring at her. And starting to kind of think about her mouth-

He turned his head away suddenly. Where the hell had that come from? What round were they on?

He was quickly losing his grip on what was going on around him. He tried to stand, to excuse himself to the restroom, and almost fell over. He was vaguely aware of Ky hosting him back up and dragging him to the restroom. After taking care of things and assuring Ky he did not, in fact, need to throw up, he remembered making it back to the table. Then he didn’t remember much more.


	8. Chapter 8

“He okay?” Shepard asked as Ky shoved his relatively smaller friend into a seat. Garrus slumped over the table on his forearms unsteadily, blinking with deliberate effort. He started to stare at her again for a moment, again realized what he was doing, again looked away. Nika, thankfully, had finally vanished off somewhere and that show was over. But the party in general was still going strong.

It could have been the booze, but Shepard found her attention lingering on Garrus longer. He’d spent the night so far making a very different impression from when they’d first met. The longer the evening went on, and the loopier he was getting off the _horosk_ , he struck her as less an entitled sore loser and more as...well. She wasn’t totally sure yet. A little nerdy, a little socially uncertain, in an endearing kind of way. What she was fairly certain of was that he was displaying a lot of the same subtle behaviors toward her that Alenko had been. She was trying to figure out how she felt about that.

“He’ll be fine,” Ky said, dropping into his own seat. “Now, where were we?”

The world was pleasantly spinny, but Shepard was still handling herself well enough. If she wanted to, she could channel some biotic energy through herself and take the edge off even more, like a sort of metabolic reset button. In the darkness, however, there was no way everyone wouldn’t notice her doing it, and she’d have to forfeit. Besides, she didn’t need her auxiliary abilities to out-drink most people.

“Gearing up for round nine,” Alenko informed them, chin propped on a palm. He’d ordered himself some spicy wings, which Garrus was now fixated on, while the rest of them made drunken fools of themselves. Occasionally he had to lightly bat away Williams’ hand, protecting his sustenance from her greedy fingers.

“Hey Alenko, we need to get you a placard and some booty shorts,” Shepard smirked. He arched a brow at her, his mouth turning up in a wry smile.

“You’re teasing, but you’ve yet to see how well I can pull off booty shorts.”

Williams was slumped back in her seat, but held her glass out forcefully, clinking it against the bottle in Shepard’s hand.

“Everybody shut up and let’s go!” she bellowed gaily. “I’m still vertical over here. ”

“You’re not going to be for most of tomorrow,” Shepard said, pouring the next round. “Hey, speaking of which. Let’s toast to at least most of us being among the three hundred candidates moving on to Stage Two.”

“Ackshully,” Garrus slurred. “There could be as few as thirty, if all the Spectres picked the same people. ‘S unlikely. But. Pozzible. Prob’ly gonna fall somewhere in the middle. If you go by, by statist...stat...tics...”

Ky patted Garrus’ back heartily. “Yep, you know it, buddy. You still in on this round?”

Garrus looked up at Ky slowly. “Hm?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Shepard said, hefting her own glass. “Looks like he’s only conscious in the most technical sense.”

“Suppose you're probably right.” Ky grabbed a bottle of water and slid it over to Garrus, who stared down at it as though it were a heretofore unknown alien species. Ky undid the lid and pushed it into his hand, and it finally clicked with him what he was meant to do with it. He did a commendable job at getting most of the water into his mouth.

“You might have to make good on that claim you could pack this guy around,” Ky chortled to Shepard.

“Nuh-uh, that’s on you. I’m already gonna have to carry Williams out of here.”

“Fuck you,” Williams snapped groggily.

Round nine went down the respective throats and Alenko reset the timer on his omnitool. Shepard stretched, taking a few deep breaths to keep the oxygen going.

“So. Ky. What happened with you and Blackwatch?”

“Hm?” he asked, then frowned. He shook his head, turning his glass over in his fingers. “Oh, that. Nothing interesting, just political bullshit.”

“They forced you out?”

“Nah, nothing like that. There’s all this...well. I’m from Taetrus. Short version of the story is there’s been a lot of insurgency back home lately. Terrorist attacks, that kinda shit. Some of it started to spill out onto Palaven, my own unit was having to deal with it. But some of the higher ups were getting nervous about guys like me in the ranks. So my CO pulled me into his office and basically gave me a choice. I either had to make a public statement of loyalty, or I was out.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a choice,” Shepard said.

“Sure wasn’t. I told him where to put his stupid pledge. I sure as fuck don’t support terrorists, but I wasn’t about to prostrate myself to the Heirarchy to prove it. That and if he didn’t know exactly what I was about already, if he couldn’t stick his neck out for me to his superiors, then he wasn’t the man I thought he was.” Shepard couldn’t help but catch the doleful tone he took on when he said that.

“That’s awful,” she sympathized. “I’m sorry.”

“Enh. Is what it is. When this whole Academy thing popped up I said fuck ‘em, I’mma go be a Spectre.” He started pouring himself his next round. “How about you, N7? What’s your story?”

“No story,” she replied, filling her own glass. She glanced over to Ashley, whose face was now pressed up against the wall, nearly snoring. Garrus was similarly passed out, curled up on the tabletop. “Someone thought I was a good choice and I got asked to come out.”

Shepard raised her shot glass. Round ten.

“Huh,” he replied, mirroring her own action, both of them downing their shots in sync. “Must be nice. If you wash out here, you got something to go back to.”

“You’re assuming I’m going to wash out,” Shepard half-smiled.

“I dunno, kid. You’re good, I’ll give you that. Not sure if you’re Spectre ‘good’ though.”

“You say that because you can take me in hand-to-hand after I've already had a long day. Wait until you really see me cut loose.”

“Looking forward to it,” Ky chuckled, then swooned. “Mmmf. Oh, I think that one might have sent me over.”

“Tapping out?”

“Aw, hell no. ‘M still upright, aren’t I?”

“You both realize I can’t carry _all_ of you back, right?” Alenko cut in. Shepard had almost forgotten he was there. “Might be time to call it.”

“One more,” Shepard insisted, already pouring.

\---

Garrus was back in his room at his old family home. Except instead of the familiar black laminate tile, the floor was made of the flexible matting of the Academy sparring gym. He was on his back, panting, struggling to move, not entirely certain how he’d gotten there. Lost a scrap, maybe. Every muscle was limp, numb, as he tried to will himself to roll to one side. His fingers reached feebly for one of the legs of his bed, but despite it looking close enough to grab, it eluded him. Like his talons passed right through it. Then he was aware that he wasn’t alone.

Shepard was standing over him, wearing the same clothes she’d had on the day she’d bested him. Her smooth skin was covered in a fine layer of sweat, a light haze of steam rising off of her, her breathing deep and full. It made her chest move in a way that inexplicably dragged his attention to it, a hypnotic movement that he wanted to watch for a while. She stared down at him, mild amusement in her eyes. Her long hair was all around her face, inexplicably dry despite the rest of her being substantially wet.

“Shepard-” he managed to utter in mild confusion. She stepped across his waist, looming over him ominously, and he sucked in an apprehensive breath. Slowly, carefully, she sank to one knee, then the other. She leaned forward over him, pressing her hands down at either side of his head. Her hair hung down all around his face like dark fire, somehow both wispy and intangible. He felt the pulses of her feverish breaths against his face, her body heat exuding all over him. His fingers twitched, a sudden impulse to run them through the fibrous length. He couldn’t, but somehow he possessed the knowledge that she’d be okay with it if he did.

Her pelvis came to a rest atop his, first tentative, then more fully. Instantly he was enlightened to what was going on. An unexpected reaction started taking place, a familiar pressure starting to build behind his plates. An intensity of sensation shooting from his groin up into his abdomen. His most primitive mind knew exactly what this was, even if his higher thoughts had failed to consider the possibility.

“Garrus,” she half-whispered, half-moaned into his ear. Her tongue slid up along the sensitive flesh at the front of his neck, drawing a gasp out of him. It was soon followed by a low moan as she continued down further, nibbling delightfully at the crevice at the inside of his cowl. His hands were fumbling for the fastening on his pants, or maybe hers were because he still couldn’t get his limbs to respond like the rest of him was. It didn’t matter; this was happening and he had no intention of trying to stop it.

Then something changed. A shift in air pressure, a mechanical sound. The door, downstairs. Dad wasn’t supposed to be home yet. He tried to turn away from her, tried to lift his arms to push her off, to tell her she had to get out of there _now_. It was bad enough he’d broken the very firm rule of not having guests over without parental supervision, but Dad was going to have a full on conniption when he saw Shepard. A human.

“No,” he groaned to her. “Stop-”

But no matter how hard he flailed and struggled, he couldn’t manage to lift her weight. She was pushing back on him, harder and heavier, holding him down. And then she was shaking him roughly, and his father was yelling-

“Hey,” Ky’s voice bellowed at him, “Hey!”

Garrus grabbed Ky’s arms as he stumbled back into consciousness, his head splitting into a shocking burst of pain that made him wince and groan out loudly.

“What….where…”

“It’s okay, kid. I saved you from the bad guys.”

Garrus clutched at his face, confused. “Huh?”

“You were thrashing around pretty hard. Figured you were having a nightmare.”

Garrus blinked hard a few times. The visuals and scents of his surroundings sluggishly trickled in through his awakening senses, telling him that he was in his Academy quarters. He was in his own bed, still in last night’s clothes, sheets lightly damp and violently askew. He vaguely recalled the dream he’d been waking up from, something about trying to get away from his father…

His stomach lurched. Oh, right. He’d been drinking last night in wholly inadvisable amounts. He grunted something unintelligible to Ky that he hoped sounded like ‘thanks,’ and staggered off to the bathroom. He used the toilet then turned on the sink, splashing the water in his face and swallowing quite a bit of it until his stomach settled. He rifled around the cabinet for an analgesic, wondering why the lights in here had to be so damn bright.

Garrus finally lurched out of the bathroom some minutes later, his pounding skull keeping him from moving any faster than an amble. Ky was on the couch, humming some unrecognizable song to himself as he cleaned a model of rifle Garrus hadn’t seen before, or one he had that was modded beyond recognition. Or both. As he eased his way over to the kitchenette, he realized there was a plate of eats from the cafeteria sitting on the countertop. He looked over his shoulder at his roommate.

“Where’s Kandros?”

“Heh,” Ky grinned, not looking back at Garrus. “Never made it back here last night, I guess. I brought back that plate for you. We got an assembly at noon, intro to Week Two.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Garrus rumbled with almost warmth. “Wait. Week Two doesn’t start until tomorrow-?”

“Yeah, and I guess they’re letting us know what we’re in for today. Proceedings must be getting going first thing in the morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. Suggest you hurry.”

“Mmh,” Garrus agreed miserably, hoping he’d feel a little more alive in the next hour. He was hungry but his gut was still deliberating over whether it would rather accept nutrients or reject the water he’d already filled it with. He’d not yet decided when Kandros came rushing in, also still in the previous night’s clothing. She didn’t stop to greet either of them before disappearing into their shared bedroom and swiftly shutting the door behind her. Garrus winced at the noise and Ky cackled.

Garrus finally started taking cautious bites of his breakfast, cajoling his digestive tract to not rebel against him for doing so. He’d started to make headway when Kandros re-emerged, dressed for the day and moving with speed and direction back towards the front door.

“Hey, Kandros,” Ky started to call. “You-”

“Not,” she barked at him, pointing an aggressive talon, “A damn. Word.” She then turned and nodded slightly to Garrus before breezing out into the hall. Ky blinked, raising his hands out from him in a gesture that said ‘What?’ Garrus almost laughed, but he knew that would send more painful shockwaves through his head.

“Uh, Ky,” he croaked, pushing the unfinished half-plate away. “I don’t suppose you learned anything useful last night. I mean, after I passed out.”

“You mean after you blacked out,” Ky grinned, and Garrus froze, his hands going tense.

“I...did I-”

“Nothing too embarrassing, kid, don’t sweat. And, uh. I guess I did find out Shepard’s only here because she was requested to by her superiors. That’s about it though, kinda got caught up.”

“Wait, elaborate on ‘too embarrassing.’”

“You get really into talking about numbers and calculations when you’re drunk.”

“Oh.” Garrus mumbled. “Shepard didn’t say why they asked her?”

“I mean, it’s not like she’d have spilled if she was here for some nefarious reason or anything. But I guess she was selected for it? She didn’t say much more than that.” Ky finished reassembling his rifle and carried it back to their room. Garrus sighed, and after a few minutes he worked up the motivation to get himself changed and showered.

Out in the makeshift amphitheater, the vid screens lit up the same as they had a week ago, Nihlus’ face once again coming up in bright display. Garrus sucked in a breath, ready to hear almost anything.

“Greetings once again, candidates. With our first week behind us, I am confident that among your number stand many future Spectres. However, now is when the true sifting begins. Starting today, the next five weeks will each be dedicated to a specific challenge meant to test your abilities in a practical setting. You will be required at various times to work both with and against one another. You will be judged on your versatility, your resourcefulness, and your determination. There will be no do-overs.

“For the rest of this week, you will all be grouped into teams of five, and working in opposition to another team regarding a specific objective. These objectives will be assigned randomly and the details will not be divulged to you until immediately before the event. Any candidate who has completed their round is expected to not divulge the details of the objective. Those who do will receive demerits towards their Spectre consideration.

“There are a great many of you, and so each individual here will only be participating in one event each week. The rest of the week is yours, to train and consult with your mentors for personal advisement as you see fit. Your schedules will be updated with your allotted times shortly. Best of luck.”


	9. Chapter 9

It was the beginning of the week and Shepard was already a little bored. After the unexpected announcement the previous day, the compound was abuzz with chatter about what exactly they were all going to be doing. Whether they were all going to have the same experience, or if it was going to be different for every group. Hypotheses abounded. Shepard didn’t partake in the rumor mill, even when her roommates started to get in on the action. She was Commander Shepard, N7, it was her whole job description to be ready for anything. And she would be.

It had been a surprise, to be sure, but she wasn’t necessarily complaining that they were all going to be having quite a bit of free time over the course of the next week. Her own turn in whatever the mysterious challenge was going to be wasn’t until near the end of the week, which meant lots of time to train and hone her skills. 

She had no intention of popping in to have a chat with Vasir; the less she had to do with the woman, the better. Shepard needed neither consultation nor critical feedback to do what she was here to do, and at this point she was seriously skeptical that she would get any sort of useful advice even if she did. If she timed her days right, she could probably end up avoiding Nika for most of the next week as well. That thought alone lifted a couple hundred kilos of stress right off her back.

And then there was Vakarian. Garrus, rather. He was still a distraction, but a strangely welcome one. One that, actually, she kind of needed and was only just now realizing. She’d been subconsciously going back to that well regularly since the past weekend. It was an intriguing thought that he was pent up, potentially dealing with some manner of attraction to her. The idea that he may be of dubious opinion about said attraction, or even not entirely happy about it, was particularly entertaining. It may have been the alcohol, she recognized, but even booze didn’t often whip up urges and inclinations totally out of nowhere. She wondered how it would go if she deliberately started to make subtle passes at him while he was perfectly sober. Her curiosity was officially piqued.

Shepard hadn’t seen him again since the other night, but then, their routines didn’t overlap much if at all. She resolved that she wasn’t going to pull a stakeout on him or anything, but hey, if they ended up in the same place at some point, well that would just be an interesting coincidence. Any social experimentation she conducted if and when that happened would be for scientific purposes only. If it was clear her advances were ineffective or unwelcome, then that would be that.

It wasn’t as though she had anything else pressing to focus on.

Most of the other candidates around her seemed to be a lot more concerned about what was coming. Their collective distraction made it a bit easier for her to wander the compound without being much noticed. The candidates who had completed their turn in the event had various reactions about it, some claiming it was easy and others driven to despondent silence. Nihlus’ warning about keeping mum on the details seemed to have been more than effective, though, as not a single word about it reached her.

Shepard did once happen to catch a glimpse of Garrus as he joined Ky in the dextro cafeteria, while he didn’t detect her presence in return. Another day early in the morning she was taking a run along the path that encircled half of the Academy dorms, and she saw him again, exiting his own building. He stopped in his tracks as he saw her, that same deer in the headlights reaction that he’d had toward her back at the club. She didn’t miss a stride, but was inclined to smile at him and fire off a wink as she passed. On her return cycle, she could see him making his way to the training gym. Aha.

And so it was the next day that she decided to hit the gym and see what it looked like that early in the morning.

As she entered, she’d figured it would be only sparsely populated, but it was actually almost entirely empty. Perhaps the freedom to do as they pleased had encouraged most of the other candidates to at least sleep in before training. Slackers. But there was Garrus over in the weights section. And he caught notice of her immediately, his posture stiffening as he did. Once he had composed himself again, he immediately turned himself away so he wasn’t facing her. Shepard walked over to where the pull-up bar was, just far enough away from him, and got to work showing off.

Shepard eventually lost count sometime after fifty. But the point wasn’t to break any personal records or to reach a certain rep set; it was simply a good workout that pumped up the definition in her muscles. She finally dropped down and quickly turned her head, just in time to see Garrus’ head turn quickly away in the same instant. He’d been watching her, and wasn’t keen on her realizing it. She’d called it. A self-satisfied smile crossed her lips of its own accord. 

Next, she walked over to a wall where a number of meter-cubed boxes sat stacked four tall, multipurpose props for advanced training exercises. She pulled a pair of them to where they were parallel and just the right distance apart, and started in with a series of push-ups. This time she was facing him, so he would be forced to remain aware that if he started staring this time, she would notice. By all accounts, at that point he looked to be trying very hard to avoid that.

Shepard finished her box push-ups and decided she’d played coy enough. She meandered over to where Garrus had moved on to barbell curls. She leaned up against the wall next to him, eyes following the rising and lowering of the bar in his hands. He very pointedly kept his eyes fixed hard on the far wall ahead of him.

“You should relax your neck,” she offered, her tone subtly expressing her mischievous intentions. “You’re all tensed up.”

“That’s only because _you’re_ standing there. Do you need something?”

“Just enjoying the show,” Shepard smirked. His movements slowed a moment as he digested her comment, then he swallowed and quickly picked his pace back up. It was delightful, how little effort it took to rattle him.

“So it’s not enough that I can’t have the gym to myself,” Garrus huffed between reps. “You have to actually come over here and bother me properly.”

“I was trying to offer some friendly advice. I have a little expertise in stuff like this.”

“Right,” he huffed out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure you do fine. For a human.”

He was either trying to antagonize her or make it clear her presence was unwelcome, neither of which she was going to allow him a victory on.

“Kicked _your_ ass.”

His face took on a low sneer. “Only because Spectre Kryik let you use your biotics.”

She straightened her back and rolled her neck a few times. “Those are as much a part of me as your plates and talons are for you.”

“Excuses. We both know without them, you wouldn’t have stood a chance against me.”

Shepard pushed away from the wall, sliding out a foot and cocking her hips, pressing her fists against them.

“We should find out.”

Garrus finished his rep and then hesitated. He lowered the bar to the ground, then straightened and rubbed his damp hands on the sides of his pants. He turned a hard, distrusting look on her.

“You mean that?”

She shrugged, spreading her open palms. “There’s no one else here. Let’s put this thing to rest for once and for all.”

“Figures you wouldn’t want witnesses,” Garrus snarked, glancing around the empty space as though he needed the confirmation that they were alone. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

He’d agreed even faster than Shepard had predicted. It confirmed a few things she’d suspected about what was going on with him and sent a little diabolical thrill through her head. Time to confirm a few more.

They moved out to the center of the gym. It wasn’t the sparring rings, but there were still mats covering the floor to protect against serious injury. They took position around three meters apart, squaring off. Shepard was almost surprised at how very eager Garrus was being about this. He was still salty about losing to her, and absolutely had something to prove. She was about to give him what he wanted and, if things went as planned, immediately take it away.

“Rules?” he asked.

“Same as in the ring,” she replied. “No holds barred. There’s no ring, though, so you gotta pin to win.”

“Works for me.” Garrus stretched and loosened his limbs. “Let’s do this.”

The two started circling just as before, predators facing off. One of them already grievously wounded right in his pride. Shepard exercised patience this time, waiting for him to come at her. To walk right into her trap. 

She was already fully aware of what his most likely strategies would be. Getting her in a grapple or lifting her off the ground made the most sense based on their size difference. So, she decided, they weren’t going to do that. She dodged to one side as his first strike flew, smacking away his thrusts and grabs as they came at her. She made no offensive attempts of her own, which she didn’t have to- she could keep this up a while. Her intent was to be infuriatingly slippery, to aggravate him into reacting without thinking. She could still hit plenty hard without her biotics, but that wasn’t the game here.

Several minutes of flurried skirmishing punctuated by pacing and panting, Garrus was getting steadily more aggressive in his attacks. Shepard was the bow drawing the desired sounds from his strings. His hands were curled up tight, his mouth giving a frustrated show of teeth.

“Stop dancing around and _fight me_ ,” he demanded in a throaty growl. She laughed between heavy breaths.

“Stop making excuses about why you can’t beat me.”

His lips and mandibles curled back farther from his teeth. He was beyond trying to temper his anger. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward,” she barked with a gleeful grin, and Garrus froze. His eyes widened the barest perceivable amount, his pupils shrinking. There it was, her opening. 

She lunged forward at him and spun a heavy kick into his midsection. He reacted barely in time, dodging back with the impact and managing to stay on his feet. He came back at her immediately, his rage amping up his speed and intensity now. They scrapped in a chaotic storm of back and forth for several seconds before Shepard finally felt his arm gain purchase around her waist. He jerked her in tight, using the leverage of his size and strength to severely limit her options in countering him. His knee came forward- he was going to sweep her. Or he thought he was. 

One of Shepard’s hands tightly clenched on his inner thigh just below his groin, the other wrapped around his back to dig her fingers in at his waist. A shocked huff escaped his lungs and he recoiled away, shoving her.

“Stop that!” he snarled, and she smirked.

“No holds barred, Vakarian,” she chortled, raising her hands and dancing from the ball of one foot to another. “You could always yield.”

Garrus roared suddenly to life with a vitriolic cry, barrelling at her and dipping down into a slide at the last moment. Shepard knew in the back of her head she could simply leap backwards to avoid him, but she’d had her fun. He got her by her legs and her pelvis, flipping her into the air and bringing her down hard on her back. She made some nominal moves to resist him pinning her, but wasn’t really trying all that hard. He’d wedged his knee between her legs, pinning one of her right leg between both of his while pressing her wrists into the mat above her head. His forearms were planted on either side of her head, his chest very nearly pressed against hers. He’d clearly wanted to be very certain she wasn’t going anywhere.

His breaths were coming in the form of ragged panting, which eventually bubbled into low-key maniacal laughter. It felt hot and invigorating against her forehead. It took Shepard a minute to catch her own breath, but the adrenaline was flowing with exhilaration through her veins.

“You can yield now,” he gloated.

“I let you win,” she heaved an exaggerated sigh. Garrus snorted.

“Sure. Tell yourself that.”

She was acutely aware that he was lingering. He could have, ought to have let her up. They both knew she wasn’t getting out of this pin short of breaking the rules. But he remained over her, his breaths gradually slowing and deepening. Shepard’s lips curled into a devious smile, and she shifted her pelvis just so against his knee. She felt his grip tighten ever so slightly on her wrists.

“So. Now what?” she asked, staring intently at his eyes. They were blue, she hadn’t really noticed before.

She waited for a response that wasn’t immediately forthcoming.

“What do you mean?” he muttered quietly, his eyes scanning her face in the same way hers were taking in his.

“You’ve got me where you want me. Now what?”

Shepard swore she could feel the acceleration of his heartbeat through his torso.

“Shepard,” he uttered lamely, voice thickening. “I…”

She hadn’t exactly planned this part, but if felt right, now. She lifted her head off the mat, crossing the few centimeters to Garrus’ face, very almost pressing her lips to his mouth. But besides not being entirely certain how this sort of thing translated between species, she wanted to be sure he was going to reciprocate. He could deal with bearing at least partial responsibility for crossing that line.

And then, tentatively, his head dipped to hers, his tongue slipping past his lips. She kissed him, feeling the tip of his tongue pressing warily past her parted lips, which she welcomed. He released her wrists, and she could feel his fingers start to slide through her hair, cupping the back of her head. Her hands slid up onto his shoulders and around toward his back. She rolled her pelvis again, and this time it elicited a choked moan from the back of his throat, his knee pushing lightly back against her. Oh, it was worse than she’d thought. He wanted it _bad_.

Garrus sat up on his knees, keeping her in his arms as they continued to parse the mechanics of an interspecies makeout session. He kept sliding his tongue in delicate flickers over her lips between her kisses, and she would catch it and nibble gently before he drew it back. He eventually leaned into her neck, trailing faint licks and gentle nibbles against her skin. She let herself moan softly at the pleasant prickling it triggered in her flesh. His fingers dug into her back and the nape of her neck in apparent response, his control slipping.

“We,” he said between ragged breaths against her neck. “Should we-”

_BANG_.

Garrus dropped her, and she caught herself on her elbows. The both of them turned their immediate attention to where Senairis had just walked right into a metal weights stand by the front door, knocking it over with a harsh, echoing report. She stood there agape, as though she’d barely noticed the cacophony in favor of the show going on in the middle of the floor. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of them in flat shock. Shepard grinned back at her shamelessly.

“Sen,” Garrus’ flustered voice finally stuttered out. “This looks- we, ah-”

Senairis raised her palms outward at them as though to say _‘nope_ ,’ turned, and strode back out the door without a sound. Garrus stared out after her, clearing his throat uncomfortably. Shepard pulled herself out from under him, and he considerately moved to aid her when he finally noticed. She looked over to him and half-smiled, almost apologetically. The past few minutes had been unexpected and very interesting, but she needed time to process the whole thing. He probably did too, even more so.

“I should go.”

“Yeah,” was all Garrus quietly replied. Shepard thought breakfast was an amazing idea.


	10. Chapter 10

What the hell had just happened?

Garrus meandered through the compound back to his quarters in a daze. He didn’t say anything to Ky who was groggily staggering his way from the bedroom to the kitchen. Garrus made for the bathroom and quickly closed the door behind him and turned on the shower.

“ _Should we…_ ” he’d said. He’d meant to say ‘...be doing this?’ Or, he was mostly sure that had been the intent. But as he’d started to speak it into the world, something in his brain had attempted to to turn it into, ‘...go somewhere else-?’ And he’d had to stop himself. His heart picked up speed again just thinking about it, his neck flushing with heat that wasn’t coming from the shower. Spirits. Where would ‘somewhere else’ even have been? It wasn’t like he could have just brought her back _here_. Even if he managed to find a magic hour between the presence of roommates, he’d never hear the end of it for the rest of his days if Ky saw Shepard here. No, wait, why was he wondering how he could be alone with her?

Garrus shook his head hard and turned around under the steam, trying to make the least bit of sense out of a nonsensical situation. Shepard had come on to him out of the blue, and he’d responded favorably. He’d had no idea he would, and she apparently had. He had to wonder what her true motives were. The concept that she was just suddenly, inexplicably into him was ridiculous, and he immediately rejected that. Nothing had happened between them to give her that impression. Had it?

There was the other night at the club. He recalled that she’d noticed his reaction to seeing Kandros and the human woman onstage. That he’d been staring, slack-jawed at the bawdy display. That was the only time she could have gotten the idea that led to...whatever that had just been. And as they’d both learned, he’d been down for it. But had it been a tease? A psychological experiment?

Real?

He scrubbed at the few flakes of dead skin that sloughed off, maybe a little too hard. His hide came away feeling raw and chafed. No, there was some ulterior angle to this. She had very successfully gotten into his head, that couldn’t have been incidental. No. She was trying to throw him off his game. For some reason. Possibly she hadn’t really forgiven him for his poor first impression, and this was her revenge. It seemed to track. He didn’t know what she had to gain from it, but then, it didn’t have to be for anything beyond her own self satisfaction. That had to be it. _Or,_ a small, unwelcome thought floated in, _it could be that she’s genuinely interested, and was gauging if I’d reciprocate._

_Stop_ , Garrus commanded himself. He pressed his head against the shower wall, staring at the billowing clouds rising all around him in waves. Intentional or not, she’d gotten him off his game, hard. And he had all of a day to get back into it before it was his turn into the fray. A heavy hand pounded on the door outside, causing him to jump.

“How long you gonna be in there?” Ky called. Garrus shut the water off.

“Be just a minute,” he responded, rubbing at his face and reaching for the dryer button. He just needed to do what he could to forget about this for now. He had to prepare for tomorrow. He-

A ping lit up his omnitool. He opened it up to an administrative message about tomorrow’s event. It listed out his name and the names of five others, including Senairis. _Of course,_ he grumbled mentally. Kyeros was listed as his team’s ‘captain.’ Scrolling down, he saw that the opposing team’s names were also listed. And their captain.

It was Shepard. An avalanche of expletives exploded through his mind. Someone, somewhere, was having a grand old laugh at him. Probably Kryik. Or the universe itself. 

“Hey,” laughed Kyeros from outside the door. He must have gotten the same message. “Neat.”

\-----

Kyeros was already in the open lobby with his modded-to-hell-and-back assault rifle by the time Garrus had arrived. He wasn’t typically one for punctuality, so that surprised Garrus. Sen followed a few minutes later and he had to turn away and start messing with his rifle, pretending as though it wasn’t perfectly adjusted exactly how he wanted it and he had a plenty good reason not to acknowledge her. Not long after a salarian man and a human woman walked in together mid-conversation. 

“-mother keeps trying to tell me to go be in STG like my brothers, but I said there aren’t enough salarian Spectres as it is. And besides, how many sons does she need to have in STG before she’s happy, am I right?”

The human woman laughed warmly and made a commiserating comment about her own parents condemning her decision to enlist, while another figure entered behind them. A quarian woman, clad in a suit of dark green and shining silver and significantly heavier looking than most quarian suits, sauntered in. She had a large assault rifle of her own slung over a shoulder.

“Huh,” Ky mused at seeing the quarian. “No shit. I thought I’d heard something about one of you.”

Her face was all but invisible under the mask, but Garrus didn’t expect her to be thrilled by that kind of greeting. 

“I haven’t heard about you at all,” her accented voice retorted. The others chuckled, especially Sen, and Ky joined them. But his own smile sank into something almost dark.

“Not a problem. You will.”

“Yes, he _is_ in fact like that all the time,” Sen informed her, and extended a hand of greeting. “Senairis.”

“Janen’Zhil nar...er. Rather. Janen is fine.”

“Shoreh Barati,” the bronze-skinned human woman raised a hand, then gestured to the salarian, who bobbed his head and lifted a hand. “This is Welod.”

“Kyeros, Garrus,” Ky gestured respectively, then rolled his neck. “Good, everyone’s introduced. Hope you’re all ready to kick some ass today.”

Murmurs of assent echoed back at him. 

“All right, kids,” Ky announced with more gravitas than Garrus had heard from the man previously. “I just spent the last half hour or so getting a debrief. Here’s how it’s going to be. The other team’s objective is all biotics, and we’re all tech specialists. Their objective is to retrieve an object that is presently under our control,” he tossed a weighted case to the ground, “and get it to a platform that represents an LZ. Our objective is to stop them from doing that. Pretty straightforward.”

“We’ve all been equipped with Armax nonlethal ammo, and the rest of our gear is sim tech. Your armor will register the hypothetical damage and report it in real time. It’ll know if you get disabled or dead, and there will be an overhead holo display so everyone knows who’s still active and who’s down.”

“You should have all gotten the message identifying our competition. Like us, they’re the heavier hitters in their division, and they’re headed up by the N7 Shepard.”

Garrus resisted glancing sidelong to see if Sen had reacted or looked his way. 

“Shit,” Barati muttered at the mention of her fellow human. She was in Alliance armor, but definitively not an N7. Garrus wasn’t aware of any other human spec ops, and guessed she felt about going up against Shepard the same way he’d have felt being told he had to go up solo against Kyeros.

“I want no more commentary from you except any insight you may have on tactical strategies dealing with an N7, Barati. Clear?”

“Yeah,” the woman sighed, following it up with a ‘sir’ after being glared at silently by Ky. He looked away and she made what looked like the silent shape of words with her mouth, but he had no idea what she was miming saying. Welod looked to have gotten it, though, and tittered.

“We’re going to start with a basic strategy. You’ll be assigned a counterpart and your primary focus will be taking that person down. If one of you has difficulty with your counterpart, radio for assistance and we’ll close the gap. If someone or something else takes down your target, find out who needs your assistance most. If you can each handle your one job this should be easy.”

He flipped through the dossiers on his omnitool display for a moment, and began assigning names to each member of the team. Barati and Sen were each assigned one of a pair of turian biotic twins from the Cabals. Welod and Barati were each given an asari commando to tangle with. And then, with complete sobriety, he nodded in Garrus’ direction.

“I know she’s their captain, but I’m putting you on Shepard. The other human biotic is a superior biotic close quarters combatant, so I’ll be the one to handle that.”

Garrus gripped his barrel tight in his hands. No. Anyone else. Anyone he wasn’t going to start having weird, conflicted thoughts of when staring down his sights at them.

“K- Ehem. Sir. Could...Senairis maybe deal with Shepard, instead?”

Sen shot him a sharp, scrutinizing look that he reflexively shrank away from. Ky stared into him, as well, looking from Garrus to Sen and back.

“Are...are they hooking up?” he asked her, voice going thick with glee. The captive audience to Garrus’ humiliation ranged in reaction from entertained interest to awkward avoidance. Garrus choked and sputtered.

“ _No_ ,” he spat emphatically. Sen raised her brow plates skeptically and Ky noticed. He turned a fierce grin on Garrus, who felt powerful heat crawling up his neck.

“Nice,” he laughed.

“We’re _not_ ,” Garrus insisted again to both of them. And everyone else.

“Okay,” Senairis replied with a low, flat affect, as she stared off towards the door, wishing to be anywhere but where she was. Garrus empathized.

“If that’s so, then there shouldn’t be a problem, should there?” Ky was still laughing in the back of his throat, but he was getting control of it.

“Sen’s more her peer than I am,” Garrus insisted, finally coming up with a more reasonable explanation. Anger simmered in his voice, trying to cover up his embarrassment. “You...you know how the sparring rings went down.”

“You’re the better shot,” Ky reminded him, slipping easily back into all-business mode. “And Shepard is a melee spec’d biotic. Long range is her weakness. Speaking of which,” he looked over everyone else, “try not to let any of them within about ten meters or so if you can help it, unless you’ve got shock absorption equipped on your armor. Which, you all should if you planned ahead, but I digress. Everything else is simmed, but the biotics will be the real deal, even if dialed down a bit.”

Garrus recognized defeat as Ky slid seamlessly from shutting him down to getting back into strategizing. He flexed one hand in on itself, getting his breathing back in line. It was time to take the cue and suck it up. Dammit.

Ky pulled up a holo schematic of the arena. It was a mock-up of a section of city, with a main road corridor running down the middle and alleys off to the side. There were a number of three and four story buildings, which made for advantageous sniping locations. Small favors. And at the far end from where Shepard’s team would be starting, a raised flat platform that was the ‘finish’ line.

“We’ll be going in first, and have about twenty minutes to get set up where we’re going to be. There are scattered kinetic barriers and other tech we can use to our advantage all along each corridor. Sen and Garrus, you’ll be in these two buildings here closer to the LZ. I want you in position for your own targets and for any others that happen to squeak by.”

Ky shot a look at the non-turian contingent of the team. “I know these two, what are the rest of your specialties?”

“Demolitions,” Welod exclaimed without missing a beat. “I could rig up probably a half dozen traps in those first twenty minutes, at least. I was also S-Tier in my pistols trials.”

“Perfect,” Ky nodded, then looked to the others.

“I’m a regular ol’ pyrotechnic,” Barati smirked. “Among other things. Heavy, mid-range attacks. And Welod and I were _tied_ ,” she elbowed him gently and he grinned, “in pistols.”

“Good. I’ll keep you and Welod near the beginning here and here, then. Janen?”

“I can disable most of their tech if I can get close enough, guns primarily,” she shrugged. “I can repair any barriers they take down. My firearm spec is assault rifles. Oh, also I checked and our radios are all going to be on local frequencies. If I can find where the transmitter station is I can probably hack their radios and give you their feed.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Ky cooed with approval. “Do that. Then I want you and Welod out of sight, guerilla tactics- only take the shots you're sure of. Got it?”

“Understood,” she nodded curtly, and Welod followed suit. 

“Let’s go get set up, then,” Ky said just as the nearby door unlocked. They all pulled on their helmets and followed him out in a line.

Garrus was impressed. It was a convincing facade of a section of a city, surrounded by a sleek, five meter or so high wall. They all moved along as a unit, Ky pointing and giving commands. Teammates broke off as they took position, until they reached an area where the buildings gave way to an open, paved area. To the far end, near the wall, was the ‘LZ.’ Ky nodded to each of the nearest buildings.

“Each of you to the top floor, find a good spot.”

Garrus was grateful that he was all business when it mattered, no more stinging comments about Shepard, and made his way up the stairs. There were no elevators- he supposed that would have been an unnecessary addition for not only a fake building but one that may well sustain some serious damage in the near future. The whole place was stark and hollow, giving off the ambience of some long-abandoned city.

He found himself a good, defensible place at one corner. He had a perfect view of the entire area in front of the ‘LZ,’ and if he went to the adjacent window he had a clear shot almost all the way down the main corridor. It was a bit much to hope that any of the enemy team would be stupid enough to make a run down the main corridor, but they certainly were going to have a hard time of it once they got out in the open.

Garrus dragged a nearby barrier generator close and activated it, in the event that someone got smart and came up the building for him. He also laid down a couple of the proximity mines he’d brought along, one to either side of the door. Anyone trying to get the drop on him was going to have a bad time. He then took the time to scan the layout of the area into his visor to improve his targeting algorithms, linking it all up with his rifle’s VI. He laid out several heat sinks and medigel ‘packs’ against the wall at his feet. Any way he could be prepared, he would be. Including psyching himself up that if he got the chance to take Shepard down, he couldn’t choke. Like she was probably hoping he would.

Garrus took a few deep breaths and looked down his sights, surveying his best angles. This was it; the first real proving ground. Not just for himself, but for the team that was relying on him. He turned a heat sink over in his fingers idly, constantly redirecting his focus off everything that was trying to distract him.

“This should be good,” he said to himself dryly.


	11. Chapter 11

Vasir had just finished up debriefing Shepard on the basics of their objective. The impression Shepard had gotten was that this would essentially be a round of high-stakes, high-intensity capture the flag. She was pleased, at least, to be getting a chance to finally apply her officer training. Mostly. She was much less pleased about having found out Nika was one of her subordinates, and didn’t expect the woman to be particularly cooperative or helpful. But she certainly wasn’t going to complain to Vasir’s deaf ears about it.

“The tech has been calibrated to register the effect of your biotics at double force, so you’ll all want to reign them in at around half your usual output. Let your team know that bumps and bruises are to be expected, but any critical injuries to your competitors will be a good way to earn yourselves a one-way trip to being ejected from the Academy. No second chances.”

Shepard nodded once, and Vasir appraised her with a thoughtful look.

“You haven’t been doing half bad, Shepard. Keep up the good work.”

She was blindsided by the compliment, but kept her poker face up and nodded again. Vasir may just be having a good day, she wasn’t about to get her hopes up that the asari’s overall attitude toward her had changed just yet.

“Thank you, Spectre.”

Vasir returned the gesture and excused Shepard, who went to the next room where her team was waiting. She filled them in on the debrief, and described what the team they’d be up against looked like. Another surprise had been seeing Garrus’ name pop up on the opposite roster. This would be an interesting day. Which was the euphemistic way of saying ‘probable FUBAR imminent’. She started relaying the basic strategy she’d have them running, and while most of them were listening with full intent, Nika was off in one corner playing what sounded like _Galaxy of Fantasy_ on her omnitool. She hadn’t even bothered to mute it.

“We’re going to split into two groups and move up through the buildings in a staggered pattern, on either side of the main road here. Those still in cover will be scouting and providing suppression fire for those on the move. Teg, Dax, you’ll be sweeping for explosives. Leyene, Ryssa, you’ll be deploying dome shields for your teams. The other team has two snipers and we don’t know where they’ve holed up, so those domes will be what keeps us from being caught with our pants down. Nika and I will otherwise be handling any short range combat or ambushes. Nika?” she barked over to the woman, who didn’t so much as flinch.

“Yep, sounds good, let’s do that,” she droned back without moving her attention away from her game. Shepard scowled. _Fuck_. She couldn’t count on Nika for shit, and she couldn’t cover both teams simultaneously. Today was shaping up to be a whole hot mess.

“Okay,” she sighed heavily. “Plan A is to get the whole squad through this and to the LZ with the objective. But if or when things start to break down, in the end we only need one of us to secure the object and get to the LZ. So if you see someone else is close to achieving the objective, everything else goes out the window and the priority is protecting that squad member.”

“You mean like, by sacrificing ourselves?” Ryssa asked, sounding particularly unhappy about the direction.

“It’s not like we’re really going to die,” Leyene snarked back at her.

“Yeah, but if this was real we would be,” Ryssa whined. “I’m not interested in a suicide mission.”

“It’s a risk, yes. That’s part of being a Spectre. If you can’t handle that possibility, then you need to ask yourself if you actually want to be here. We’re going to do this as a team,” Shepard insisted. “Self-sacrifice is a last resort, but we have to be willing to do that to protect our teammates and complete our objective.”

“Why aren’t we taking the offensive?” Teg asked. “They have a quarian, and a salarian. We should find and take them out first, then start ganging up on the others one by one.”

“They’re still Spectre candidates just like us,” Shepard frowned. “Don’t underestimate them. Completing the objective is our priority, not taking out the other team. If you’re attacked, then engage in your groups, but otherwise we’re going to focus on staying in the shadows as long as we can. Then we’ll make a last ditch run for the LZ.”

“Yeah,” Dax agreed with a grin at his brother. “The enemy can’t be humiliated by their defeat if they’re dead.”

She looked back over at Nika who was still not paying the least bit of attention. She left the rest of the team to finish their preparations and stalked over to the thorn in her side.

“I get you’re not used to the whole teamwork and following orders thing, but we’re going to get our collective asses handed to us if you don’t get on board right this second.”

Nika sighed dramatically and finally glanced up at her from under her eyebrows. “ _I’ll_ be fine. Besides, this teamwork thing is stupid. Spectres are independent agents, they don’t run in squads.”

“Plenty of Spectres have their own teams,” Shepard rebutted her. “And this assignment specifically set us up this way, so that’s exactly what they’re testing us for.”

Nika just made a patronizing half-smile and tilted her head. “I guess we’ll see, then. Just don’t be shy about thanking me when I win the whole thing on my own for you guys.” 

Shepard’s jaw clenched tight. “You’re trying to tell me that you think you can solo six Spectre prospectives? That’s a little overconfident, even for you.”

Nika rolled her eyes and went back to her game. Shepard knew when a fight became futile, and made her way back over to where the rest of the team was engaged in idle chatter. She specifically sought out the twins, who were having a minor argument and proposing a bet over it. They turned to look at her in a nearly synchronized fashion that was a little disorienting.

“Listen,” she said. “Slight change of plans. Which one of you ranked higher in melee?”

Thirty minutes later they had donned their helmets and gathered inside the bullpen that acted as the starting gate, watching the countdown on the huge holo display overhead. There were two screens, one under a blue heading and the other orange, each listing a team roster with each individuals’ name in subdued green. As the countdown hit the ten second mark, the gates slowly opened. There was a short entrance corridor where they could take cover for a few moments while plotting their opening move. Shepard crouched behind a low wall with her shotgun, and the others followed suit better than she’d hoped. Except, of course, Nika, who sashayed over to the gap at the entrance. Shepard glared but said nothing. She’d more than anticipated something like that. Whatever. If she was intent on rushing out and getting overwhelmed in seconds, Shepard couldn’t very well stop her.

_Six….five..._

“Hey, Shepard.” Nika’s synthesized voice piped through Shepard’s helmet.

_Four...three…_

“What?” Shepard grumbled, not bothering to try and tell her to get her ass down. Maybe Shepard would get lucky and Garrus would take Nika out, right out the gate.

_Two…one..._

“Bye.” Shepard could hear the merriment in the woman’s voice. She flared into a brilliant blue light, and charged out straight down the corridor. A split second after finishing her charge, she looked about herself hastily. She then flared up once more, sailing upwards into a building off to her left.

“Stick to the plan,” Shepard ordered. At least she’d seen this coming. Nika could be a useful as a distraction, if nothing else. “Teg, Ryssa, head down and to the left. We’ll cover you then move up when you’re a-”

There was a loud explosion of glass, and a salarian flew from the upper floor of the two-story building Nika had gone into. She came charging out after him, colliding with him mid-air and slamming them both into the ground below. She knelt over the man, who was still sprawled on the ground, and tapped his nose with the tip of her gun. The sound of a single round echoed out and his helmet jerked to one side with the force of a silicone round.

“Boop,” came Nika’s playful voice before she charged off again. The salarian’s name flashed red on the display, dropping to the bottom of his team’s roster. He sat up, arms draped over his knees, and stared up at the results. He was the first out.

“Keep moving!” Shepard barked at Dax and Leyene, who had both frozen in shock and awe. Fortunately, they were quick to break from their spell and comply.

“I like her idea better!” Teg announced, clearing his building before gesturing Ryssa inside with him. Shepard growled to herself. No fucking discipline. How the hell was she supposed to accomplish the objective with a team half full of people who couldn’t be bothered to follow orders?

At the least the crew she’d kept with her were sticking to the plan, if only because Shepard herself was bringing up their rear. Dax raised a hand as he swept a room, and set to work disabling a mine while Leyene kept a dome around herself and Shepard outside the door. There was an explosion somewhere far off and fire lit up a distant window. Nika’s voice crackled through her helmet again, and Shepard heard a feminine, distinctly human voice screaming obscenities angrily in the background.

“Any of you guys wanna get dinner in town later?” There were two more staccato gunshots, and Barati’s name flashed red and fell. “Something’s got me in the mood for hibachi.”

“Damn it,” Shepard snarled aloud. Leyene looked at her as they all lined up beneath a window, looking out at the landscape ahead.

“She’s clearing our way and you’re complaining?”

Shepard opened her mouth, then closed it again sharply. There wasn’t much she could say to that.

Dax cried out to Shepard in warning and started to light up with biotic energy, but a gunshot rang out before he could enact the attack he’d been prepping. The quarian’s cloak dropped and in an instant she disappeared back behind a wall. Dax’s armor had been peppered center-mass with nonlethal ammo, which registered a blue-colored burst fire smear representing blood, and then an orange glow lit up over the rest of his armor. He was ‘dead.’

“Fuck!” he snapped, throwing his pistol on the ground, collapsing to a sitting position and cradling his head. Shepard didn’t have time to commiserate, instead ordering him to head back to the designated post-game area. She gestured wildly for Leyene to follow her, moving out into the hallway after the quarian and throwing up a barrier. 

There was a long, tense few minutes as they stalked building to building, headed in the direction of the objective. Shepard had switched her HUD to heat detection, sacrificing clearer visuals for being able to see through a tactical cloak. Finally she caught sight of what she was very nearly sure was a sliver of orange-yellow heat at the edge of one doorway. She waved a hand to Leyene, gesturing at her to stay put, and moved forward. She crouched and crawled forward, muzzle raised. As she reached within a meter of her target, the quarian popped out in what she must have thought was an ambush. Well, she’d been right about that, but had gotten it the wrong way around. Shepard took her shot, well beneath the muzzle of the quarian’s rifle, lighting up the quarian’s helmet with neon violet spatter. Then the orange glow phased in over her armor.

“Bosh’tet,” the quarian hissed over her external speaker. She punched a wall and stalked off down a side alley.

Shepard switched off her heat vision. She was still feeling the residual frustration, but less the further they advanced. The other team was already down by half, and hers had only lost one of their own. Shepard and Leyene continued to move up quickly until they were within only a few dozen meters of the clearing. It was eerily quiet up here. Only the snipers and the ex-Blackwatch techie left. Speaking of whom, Ky was waiting patiently right out in the open. Then Ryssa’a name lit up red on the display. She called up Teg.

“Status?”

“No good,” Teg’s voice came over the radio. “One of the snipers just took out Ryssa and I’m pinned down here.”

“I’m pretty sure they have a sniper up top in each of these taller buildings. You good to go get that one if I go for the other?”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “I can give it a shot, I guess.”

“I’ll come with you,” Leyene said. Shepard shook her head.

“No. Stay here. We-”

“Hey, Cap?” Teg came in, panting. “I’m still headed up, but I think we got a situation.”


	12. Chapter 12

It took all of thirty-two seconds for the first casualty to register as Welod’s name flashed red and dropped to the bottom of the display. Garrus peered down the corridor, catching a flash of blue as it darted off to the building he’d seen Barati take cover in.

“Spirits,” he whispered, wondering if that had been Shepard. In another few minutes bright fire blazed from inside the window and his stomach started to twist itself into new and creative knots. Then Barati’s name followed Welod’s into the crimson depths.

“Well this is going to hell faster than I expected,” Ky growled over the radio.

“We're going after her, right?” Sen asked, terse. Had she seen who it was making an utter mockery of their team?

“No. Stay put.”

It was another several minutes before Ky came back over the radio to inform them that Janen had successfully hacked the opposition’s radio, and loosely paraphrased what he was hearing. Garrus thought it would be a lot easier if Janen could have patched all of them in, instead of having to get it all second hand from Ky. Shortly after, one of the Cabal twins’ names dropped red. His own team’s first kill. Better than being completely laid to waste.

He kept his eyes fixed on the road below, making only occasional glances at the open door behind him, waiting and hoping for some action before this was all over. It felt like forever before the comm crackled to life again.

“Sen, you got one coming up for you,” Ky said. “Cabal. The not-dead one.”

“That’s a shock,” she replied sardonically. Garrus readjusted his grip and took a deep breath. Then it happened. The flash of blue streaked forward, stopping just short of Ky. He exhaled suddenly, his muscles relaxing. The armor lacked Shepard’s distinctive stripes. Ky took on a fighting stance, and Garrus could only hear his side of whatever banter they were having.

It seemed Ky’s opponent was realizing that Ky had strapped the disputed object case to his back, and she was going to have to go through him to get it. Something they said spurred him to taunt them with colorful language, the man spoiling for a fight, and then the enemy charged him. Ky detonated his tech armor just as they collided, neutralizing the attack. The two then engaged in a blindingly fast melee, biotics against dual omniblades.

“Garrus,” Ky’s intense yell blared in. “One coming up for you. Commando.”

Garrus exhaled sharply. He had a minute or two at least. He watched in amazement as Ky got an arm around his attacker and slammed them full-force into the ground. He raised both of his blades to bring them down in a heavy attack, only for a second blue streak to slam into him, throwing him backwards a few meters. The second assailant reached down and roughly jerked the other biotic to their feet. The red and white insignia made clear exactly who this new contender was. Shepard.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this,” Ky laughed over the comm.

At that moment, Garrus’ eyes were drawn to the display as the second Cabal twin, Teg, dropped into the red. Garrus was just about to radio his congratulations to Sen, when her own name dropped.

“Spirits be damned,” Sen roared. “Asshole got me with those nightshade blades!”

“You still took him down,” Garrus replied, “That’s-”

The sound of an explosion boomed from behind him, but without the sudden blast of air pressure. He twitched and spun about, aiming his rifle towards the door. Oh, right. He’d been waiting on an asari who’d been gunning for him. He was chuffed that his preparations had been entirely successful, but a little disappointed he hadn’t been able to engage with her directly.

“Seriously?” she screeched as her armor lit up orange. 

“Should’ve watched where you were going,” he replied with a shrug.

“Garrus!” screamed Ky’s voice. “Take the fucking shot already!” 

He immediately whipped his attention back out the window. Ky and Shepard were locked in a brutal melee showdown, Shepard glowing a brilliant cerulean. She was taking him on at full power, and he was keeping up with her, if barely. But the real problem was that it seemed she had gotten the object case away from him in the meantime and launched it with a biotic throw towards the LZ. The non-Shepard biotic was gearing up a charge to intercept it. Garrus’ team was about to lose.

Garrus raised his rifle, aiming it down field. A little under 500 meters away from him, his target was about to start moving at near relativistic speed. He did a quick mental calculation, training his barrel to aim not where she was, but exactly where she should come out of her charge, based on her angle of trajectory and power level. An impossible shot, but it would be the deciding one. He didn’t like his odds, but they were better than if he didn’t try in the first place.

_Inhale._

_Aim._

_Exhale_.

_Fire_.

She charged. He pulled the trigger. To his eyes, one second she was only a few meters from Ky and the next she was forty meters downfield, coming out of her blue light mid-air, body twisting and arm raised to catch the falling case like a clawball player making an intercept. 

His heart skipped, the world around him freezing to absolute stillness. At almost the precise moment she reappeared, his visor registered his round hitting her square in the side of her helmet. Her body flew off to one side from the sheer momentum, ragdolling through the air and then hitting the ground hard, rolling a few times on impact. Fully half of her helmet was lit up with red impact indication, and a half second later the rest of her armor lit up orange. Her name dropped, and Garrus’ heart flew up into his gizzard. A cry of ecstatic disbelief escaped him, one of his hands clenching and flying into the air. He’d actually pulled it off. It was so improbable that reality was taking its sweet time to sink in. He had paused, staring in disbelief at the form on the ground, waiting for them to get back up.

But seconds ticked by, then almost a minute, and the biotic didn’t move.

Both Ky and Shepard had disengaged from their skirmish and were staring off at the limp form of the other biotic. Shepard broke away from Ky, running not for where the case had tumbled to a stop but for her subordinate. Ky followed her at a more leisurely jog. Garrus blinked, his breathing going shaky. He pleaded to the spirits, suddenly considering the possibility that he might have actually killed her. The rounds were for all intents and purposes nonlethal, but the manufacturers likely hadn’t taken into account the physics of being combined with the sudden deceleration of a biotic charge when they’d labeled them as such.

Garrus slapped his rifle to his back and leapt out the window, scaling rapidly down the front of the building and taking off in a sprint towards the fallen combatant. As he got close Shepard was lifting their head and working their helmet off. The other ‘fallen’ from both teams were slowly gathering around, and to Garrus’ utter dismay, three Spectres had taken the field as well. Kryik, Rix, and Vasir were all staring at him with different reactions, all silent. He made a distinct effort to avoid their faces, crouching down behind Shepard.

If things weren’t bad enough, as soon as the helmet was off he could see the human woman’s face, and it sent him rocking backwards on his toes. It was the woman from the club, the very one who’d been getting up close and personal with Kandros. Or someone who looked an awful lot like her. Half her face was bruised to an angry purple, the helmet having cratered in on impact. To his endless relief, whatever it was Shepard had been doing to revive her worked, and the woman’s eyes fluttered open. He’d only knocked her out. Her left eye was brilliantly bloodshot. Her wide, bewildered gaze swept around the crowd.

“W...what the fuck just happened?”

“Stop moving, Nika,” Shepard ordered her sternly as she medscanned her. “I’m making sure you don’t have a concussion.”

As they all stood around, Ky ambled up behind to Shepard and casually sank a sim omniblade into her back. Her name went red, and the display declared victory for Garrus’ team. Shepard’s head whipped around at Ky and Garrus could picture the vitriolic glare she was giving him. Ky shrugged back.

“It was over. Just making it official.”

“Who...who got me?” Nika demanded. Shepard jerked her head in Garrus’ direction as he raised a hand in passive acknowledgement.

“You got sniped fair and square.” Shepard shut down her scan. “Luckily, it looks like you’ll be just f-”

Nika’s mouth split open in a fierce grimace of teeth and rage. Her bloodied eye only amplified the maniacal, rabid expression. She grabbed at Shepard, trying to use her as leverage to lunge forward at Garrus.

“I’ll fucking _kill_ you, asshole!”

Garrus rapidly stood and backed away, but Shepard grabbed Nika forcefully by the shoulders and shoved her back to the ground. Vasir stepped forward and raised her glowing hands in an apparent overabundance of caution, but the woman appeared to have been taken by a dizzy spell and stopped fighting, if still violently seething.

“Not with half a cranium you’re not,” Ky chortled, unbothered.

“Stay the hell down,” Shepard snarled, “and next time maybe you can try just following orders.”

There was some mild chaos as the Spectres launched into a hushed discussion and some of Shepard’s other team came forward to help her with Nika. Garrus was taken by surprise as Ky grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, mandibles splayed wide in jubilant glee.

“What the _hell_ was that shot?” he exclaimed, all but shaking the younger man in sheer elation. Garrus huffed a mentally exhausted laugh as his other teammates began to gather around and express their own astonishment. He soaked it in a moment, the fading adrenaline giving way to an incredible rush of joy and relief. 

Garrus happened to glance over and caught sight of Shepard, who was bringing up the rear of her team as they headed towards the locker rooms. She’d turned and was looking back at him. They lingered a moment like that, and he wanted to say something to her. Show good sportsmanship, maybe. Or something. They stared at one another through their helmets for a significant moment before she turned away and followed her team back to the exit. He didn’t know why the impulse to go after her was stronger than the one to stand here and bask in the adulation.

“Vakarian.”

Garrus turned to see Rix approaching him as Kryik headed off in the opposite direction. He nodded to his mentor, who set a congratulatory hand on his shoulder.

“Incredible performance today, Vakarian. I knew from the start you had potential, but you’re really starting to shine.”

Garrus couldn’t help but grin, a warm feeling swelling in his chest. “Thank you, sir.”

Rix nodded to him and left. From behind him Ky’s voice was ringing out, proclaiming that he was treating everyone to drinks downtown in honor of Garrus’ stunning takedown. For the first time since he’d arrived here, Garrus felt confident that he had a decent chance at becoming a Spectre.


	13. Chapter 13

Shepard stormed through the halls towards the screeching and loud banging that was Nika having an all-out meltdown in the locker room. She yanked her helmet off and lengthened her strides. When she reached her destination, the rest of the team was standing around, looking lost over how to deal with her. 

“Think that hit mighta got her mentally damaged?” Teg muttered to Dax.

Ryssa was trying the soothing-a-wild-animal approach, lifting her hands up and walking towards Nika slowly.

“Sweetie, it’s not a big deal. You still got two kills, and you even held your own against-”

“Ryssa, shut the _fuck_ up!” Nika screeched, biotically slamming one of the gauntlets she’d just ripped off her hands into a nearby locker. Ryssa broke into open tears and shrank back again. Leyene marched forward, putting herself between Nika and Ryssa.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” she snarled, and Nika glowered at her. 

“Come over here and stop me,” she hissed. They both flared bright with dark energy, squaring off on the verge of a full-on showdown.

“That’s enough!” Shepard bellowed, drawing the stunned silence of the others’ faces to herself. “Everyone out.”

She had only temporarily functioned as their captain, for little more than an hour even, but still they obeyed her. All except Nika, of course, but that was only to be expected. Nika continued yanking and flinging away parts of her armor, fixing a glare of cold, half-red rage on Shepard as she did.

“Spare me the fucking lecture,” she growled, sensing the words that were coming. “Just because you get off on being in charge doesn’t mean I have to listen to you.”

“You’re acting like a damn child,” Shepard snapped back in her most commanding tone. “Pull your shit together and stop embarrassing yourself.”

“If I’m _embarrassed_ it’s because I got taken out like a fucking _punk_!” Nika snarled back, grabbing her busted up helmet from the bench and hurling it into another set of lockers for emphasis. Half the locker doors by now were casualties of her inability to control her temper. Her body heaved with a hard breath and her fists clenched. “And because the rest of you useless assholes couldn’t be assed to take out a couple of damn snipers while I did all the _work_.”

“Everything that made us fail today was because of _you_ ,” Shepard barked back, “and you’re trying to throw the blame on anyone but yourself. If you had just been able to stick to a simple goddamn plan none of this would have happened.”

“ _Fuck_ your _stupid_ plan!” Nika seethed, jumping up onto the bench and jamming a finger down at Shepard. “I was _dominating_ out there, and you know it. If it hadn’t been for that son of a bitch turian, I’d have _owned_ that field today. And you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him sorry.”

Shepard’s own fists clenched, and a familiar tingle rose over her skin. The faint glow may not even have been visible in this light, but it was there. A reflexive reaction to Nika’s threats. She wasn’t about to give her a chance to carry them out.

“If you want to make something out of this, you can come get it from _me_.” Shepard bared her teeth. Nika grinned back in a bloodthirsty, funhouse mirror version of Shepard’s expression.

“That’s what you’ve wanted from the beginning, isn’t it?” Nika growled, her skin igniting blue again. “I got you feeling all insecure because you’re not the biggest and the baddest with me around. You really want to go?”

“Do _not_ test me,” Shepard warned.

“Temaru!” boomed another voice. Vasir had entered behind Shepard, and she was standing with arms folded in the doorway. She looked more pissed than usual. “My office. _Now_.”

Shepard was ready to hear Nika start arguing with the asari, was almost hoping she would. She would have been happy to put the little psychopath down herself, but it would be even more satisfying to watch the Spectre do it, to watch firsthand as the younger woman’s prospects came to an immediate, decisive end. But no such luck. Nika sneered but hopped down and followed unchastened, shoving past Shepard and beelining out the door past Vasir, who followed her.

Shepard heaved a sigh and stared around the locker room in silence for a bit. She then leaned down and started scooping up the scattered pieces of Nika’s armor while the adrenaline settled. She threw each piece into a random empty locker, considering locking it up herself and keying it to her own omnitool. This was top of the line, pricey stuff, well above the standard-issue military grade armor she was used to. Even the N7 armor was functional but comparatively basic. She was allowed to upgrade or modify her own gear, but anything she’d done she’d had to pay for herself. Nika had ostensibly had it all handed to her by someone, rich family maybe, or a sponsor.

This spoiled, entitled child of a woman had her delusions, but the reality was she was severely hampering Shepard’s chances on top of her own. And unlike Nika, Shepard wasn’t doing it for herself. The whole of humanity was watching, waiting. If she choked here, she would still be a decorated Alliance officer, sure. But the history would hang over her head, haunt her the way Williams’ family name haunted her. The human who tried to be a Spectre and failed. Anderson had sounded so confident in her when he’d coaxed her into applying for this. She had to wonder what he’d think of her right now. Obviously, he’d give her some optimistic pep talk about getting up and trying again, but if he had to be honest he’d likely admit she could be doing better.

She finally scooped up the ruined helmet and started to examine it. The electronics were well and fully shot and wouldn’t even activate, lights blinking feebly on then off. Based on Nika’s actions in the field, however, it probably had boasted a full suite of high-end programs and mods. An advanced heat vision program that had allowed her to see her targets through multiple walls. Enhanced navigation algorithms to instantly plot her courses while charging. Kinetic shielding that had been capable of rebuffing incineration tech.

_Should have sprung for a targeting deflection mod,_ she smirked to herself, turning the spiderwebbed crater in the helmet into view. The memory of the loss she’d just suffered would always be tempered by the pleasant memory of watching Nika spiral helplessly through the air. If she’d had to fail, at least she’d had a front row seat to some much deserved comeuppance. Bittersweet.

Garrus. He was really...something else. Every time she’d readjusted her view on him, he pulled out something else. He was significantly more talented than anyone had been giving him credit for, least of all himself. Hell, he was the fulcrum that had determined the victory today. She’d lost not just to his team, but to him directly, in her frantic rush to save her team from Nika’s recklessness. A near last ditch save, and he’d snatched it right back from her. He was probably gloating, and hell, he deserved it. The defeat still left a sour taste in her mouth.

She was drawn from her thoughts by a soft, tentative knock on the doorframe. _Speak of the devil._ Garrus stood there, taking in the bombed-out look of the locker room. His brow plates raised, and his jaw slackened.

“I, ah...oh.”

“You really pissed her off,” Shepard gave a dismal smirk.

“I can see that,” he agreed, clearing his throat and returning his gaze to her. He looked tense, nervous. Not at all the jubilant victor he’d been back on the field. “Shepard, listen. I was thinking we should, you know, talk. About yesterday?”

She blinked, almost having completely forgotten about that whole thing. She wasn’t sure why he was trying to bring it up now, of all times, but he was probably right that they should hash it out. At some future point. She wasn’t in a great state of mind for it right at the moment.

She rose and stuck the helmet in the locker with the rest of the suit and sealed it up. She’d transmit the lock code to Vasir, put the ball in her court as to when or whether Nika could have her gear back. Act like a child, get treated like one.

“Yeah,” she replied dolefully. “Sometime. But not right now.”

His expression registered as surprise, then chagrin. “Right. Sorry.”

She walked towards the door but was going to have to pass him on the way out. She stopped and held out a hand. He paused briefly before taking it. Right, handshaking was not a typically turian custom.

“You did great out there,” she acknowledged.

“So did you,” he blurted quickly in response.

Shepard tried to smile. It wasn’t her best attempt. Her mind wandered to the pool building on the compound. There were a handful of jacuzzies scattered around the long lap pool, and if she was lucky they might not all be totally packed. It would be an ideal place to unwind while she licked her wounds. She pulled away from Garrus and turned to walk out, but Nihlus stood in the hallway, patiently waiting his turn. Once she’d met his gaze, he nodded to her. She thought she caught Garrus’s form stiffen in her peripheral.

“Shepard. I’d like to discuss a few things with you. Walk with me?”

Just her luck.

“Yes, sir,” she responded reluctantly but reflexively. At the very least, she may be able to express some strong concerns and get feedback. Nihlus struck her as moderately reasonable.

Nihlus gestured for her to go ahead of him, and followed her out into the courtyard that served as the connective tissue to all of the compound’s facilities. 

“Your performance today was commendable,” Nihlus complimented. “Especially given the particular challenges you were faced with.”

Shepard frowned. “Might I speak freely, sir?”

“Of course, Shepard. This isn’t the Alliance.”

She sucked in a breath, hoping neither of them was about to regret coming to that accord. “That whole thing was a damn farce.”

His face didn’t change, nor did his casual manner. “Oh?”

“The way I see it, it can’t be a coincidence that we were up against a team whose skills were hand picked to be most advantageous against ours. And that was frustrating, but I could deal with it. But the real problem is _someone_ had to know Nika Temaru wasn’t about to follow anyone’s orders, but especially mine. That was a setup, wasn’t it? All of this has been.”

She thought she might have spotted a glint in Nihlus’ eye. “I figured you would have caught on to that by now. A little surprised you hadn’t come to me before this about it. But well done.”

Shepard was still disgruntled in spite of the vindication. The confirmation that there was a subtextual, psychological component to what they were being subjected to wasn’t comforting. 

“So, this was what, a test of how I’d handle a totally noncompliant subordinate? Should I have taken her out myself? Because I’ll freely admit I was tempted.”

“Not exactly. There was no right or wrong course of action,” Nihlus replied. “Each of you was being observed for your individual response to the situation you were placed in. More often than not, when you’re a Spectre, situations go bad. You held things together admirably well, and even attempted to save your rogue subordinate and salvage your mission, rather than let her be rightly taken down. I can’t say I disapprove.”

“We still lost.”

“But you went down fighting. You prioritized the success of the mission over your own personal success, and over your feelings. That’s significant, Shepard.”

It didn’t feel significant, though she appreciated him saying so. She bit at her top lip. “You know that woman’s unstable, right?”

He hesitated, but briefly. “That is something I prefer you not worry yourself over. Trust that we have the situation in hand.”

“Sure,” she muttered skeptically.

“You know, my colleagues by and large feel it’s a bit early to be making such determinations, but you’re one of my own top choices.”

“Even after _that_?” she jerked a thumb back in the direction of the arena.

“Especially after that. But beginning with Elysium. It was my own recommendation to the Alliance that they encourage you to apply. You would still have to pass the same standards of muster as anyone else, but I promised them I would personally approve your entry.”

Shepard’s heart jumped into her throat. “But- why?”

“For the good of the galaxy. The situation is bad, Shepard, and steadily growing worse. I’m not at liberty to get into the details with you at this time, but the truth is that we need people like you, and we need them quickly. We need representation from the Alliance, to bolster and inspire interspecies coherence at large. The rumors about humanity gaining a Council seat should you manage to prove yourself are only unconfirmed for the time being, and out of necessity.”

“I...understand,” she replied. 

“You have good instincts, Shepard. You’re consistent in your resolve, and reliable in your execution. So much so that if you were to, say, have any relevant observations now or in the future about her or anyone else, I’d appreciate you passing them on to me.”

Shepard almost choked on the saliva she’d been swallowing back. “Like your personal mole?”

“Something similar to that, if deniably vague, of course.”

She mulled on that a moment, then half-smiled sardonically. “Is this a test, too? You tell me I’m your favorite and that you want me to inform on people for you, and you see if I take the bait?”

He genuinely laughed in response. “Your skepticism is fair. Would you believe me if I said no?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then you’re already closer to being a Spectre than you think.”

Shepard almost laughed, herself. “For being paranoid?”

He gave her a piercing, lingering look and set a hand against her upper arm. “Precisely.”

Shepard frowned a little, her thoughts going deeper. “What if something I bring to you is about another Spectre?”

His expression, already fierce as a default thanks to his species, hardened. He scanned her face, his tone serious and low. “Do you have something like that?”

She shook her head once. “Just hypothetically.”

“Then I would, hypothetically, very much want to be informed.”

Shepard heaved a deep breath and Nihlus folded his arms across his chest. She considered everything he’d said, and went back over everything Anderson had said to her over a month ago. He hadn’t remotely mentioned Nihlus or anyone else, though to sweeten the deal there had been some inference that were she to become a Spectre, she was going to need a ship at her own command. And there was only one ship under Anderson’s purview that she was aware of that he could make such inferences about. Her heart did some kind of panicked, spasmodic thing in her chest at that thought. She nodded.

“I’ll do it.”

“Appreciated,” he replied, sounding almost relieved. “I’ll keep an hour on each weekend reserved for us to communicate and update your schedule. Take care, Shepard. And rest assured that your raw success or failure on specific assignments are not at all the deciding factor for your candidacy.”

“I’m still going to aim for kicking some ass, if that’s all right with you.”

He grinned. “I expect nothing less.”


	14. Chapter 14

When Garrus had gone to talk to Shepard it had been because he wanted more than ever to clear the air between them. To try and press her for clarification on what her intentions were, if any. He’d built himself up for a possible confrontation, but when he’d found her she’d looked deflated. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that she could be anything other than confident, self-assured. Which, of course she could. A week ago it may have mollified him to see her in such a state. Not now. Which was essentially the same answer she’d given in response to his inquiry.

He didn’t blame her for putting him off, even though it meant he was going to have to deal with this aggravating inner turmoil even longer. Something had spurred him to briefly consider inviting her out with the group, but he recognized that she might see it as him flaunting his win over her.

Then Nihlus had had to show up. Because this was Garrus’ life now. And he’d wanted to speak with Shepard, alone.

He hadn’t meant to follow after them, but they’d taken the main path that passed the residence hall, which by his usual luck was his own destination. He’d maintained a distance a couple dozen meters behind them, and tried to keep his attention on anything else. Then they’d stopped for a moment, and so he’d had to as well to avoid an impression of eavesdropping. Then Nihlus had reached out to touch her. A brief, innocent gesture, insignificant. But at that instant Garrus felt a spark of anger blaze to life in his chest. Some subconscious part of him up and decided it hated Nihlus now and the rest of Garrus should go over there and do something about it. He immediately recoiled from that bizarre reaction and turned away. This was getting out of hand. He didn’t know what was happening to him or why.

It wasn’t as though Garrus had any manner of claim over Shepard. Even if they were having a, what, fling? No, he didn’t think it even counted as that. Well, whatever it was they may or may not be having, she would have still been free to do what she wanted with who she wanted. Hell, he didn’t even know for certain it had been anything beyond a weird, momentary fluke. Not even from his own end. Or maybe he did, and he didn’t want to face that prospect until he was sure of Shepard’s opinion on the matter. He stole a tentative glance over his shoulder, and they were finally gone. He exhaled his relief and jogged the rest of the way to his quarters as though trying to escape the unwelcome thoughts that kept plaguing him. He’d confront Shepard eventually, he told himself, and they’d put this whole thing to rest.

And once he reached his room, Ky reminded him to get himself in order for a night of drinks. Garrus fumbled for an excuse. He found that he’d rapidly gone from enthusiastically anticipating the night out, to all but dreading it. That didn’t mean Ky was about to let him out of being dragged along, one way or another.

Garrus was at least glad the group consensus had been to gather at a folksy pub, rather than make a return trip to the _Be’rah_. This place was much quieter, and sort of quaint. There was real wood panelling on the walls and floor. It had the kind of soft lighting that evoked an atmosphere of firelight. The scented air reminded him of some of the forests back home. Though he recognized at least a few other patrons from the Academy, most everyone else there seemed to be local, based on the side-eye they were giving the mildly rowdy behavior of a few of his companions. 

Ky got them a table and started up the tab, striding back over with a tray of full glasses. He passed them out based on the group’s chemical anatomy, then raised one high in the air and nodded down to Garrus with a grin.

“To the man of the hour,” he announced. “And the best damn shot this side of the Attican Traverse.”

“You say that like you know someone in Terminus who’s better,” Welod quipped.

“Well, there was this one time, when I was taking shore leave on Omega-” Ky started in as he sank into his seat.

“Which would be great,” Senairis cut him off from the other side of Garrus, “If you were just planning on spending Garrus’ night talking about yourself.”

Garrus’ neck flushed. “It’s fine, really. Ky’s always got a good story. I’m still working on building up more of my own.”

“Kid has a point,” Ky smirked at Sen, who scowled back. Garrus was perfectly content spending the night being distracted by everyone else’s business. He sipped slowly at his Cipritine ale, having more than learned his lesson about the sharp dropoff in his alcohol tolerance.

After a while, between Barati and Welod’s playful one-upmanship and Janen proudly educating everyone about life on the Flotilla, Ky nudged Garrus with an elbow.

“C-Sec must be missing you right about now.”

Garrus laughed. “Not even a little. You’d be surprised how hard it was to actually get anything done. I practically couldn’t get coffee without having to fill out a requisition form.”

Ky chortled warmly. “No wonder you’re here. Being a Spectre’s gonna suit you real good, kid.”

“Well, assuming I pass. I suspect it’s going to take more than a couple good shots.”

“A couple of the _best_ shots,” Ky corrected him. “Out of pretty much everyone else here. You keep trying to pull that humility crap, and I’m not about to let you.”

“You might be right,” Garrus sent a small smile down at the table.

Ky downed the back half of his drink and waved his empty glass in a server’s direction. “Your dad would probably be pretty proud of you right now, too, huh? Even if he was an ass.”

It was as though all of the ambient noise faded away to nothing at once. His throat thickened and he stared down at his drink.

“Maybe.”

_Not a chance._

Garrus spent the next while in a kind of dour haze. Well, he _had_ been looking for something to take his mind off everything else that was bothering him. He just hadn’t been specific enough with the universe as to exactly what, evidently. As the others loosened up, getting gradually buzzier and chattier, he finished his ale and excused himself to the restroom. He took a good bit longer than he’d actually needed- a few minutes staring at the walls, a few extra minutes washing his hands. Once he’d emerged and just as he’d been hoping, the others were engrossed enough in whatever they were talking about that no one seemed to notice his absence. He got himself a new drink from the bar and quietly meandered over to find somewhere with more solitude.

Garrus found himself an empty, low-lit corner booth towards the front of the pub, sliding himself to the middle so his back was to the corner. He had a good view of the entire pub from here, which was more comfortable to him than being parked in the center of a room, anyway. More secure. He nursed his drink and dragged the back of one talon over the rim of the glass, losing himself in his thoughts for a while.

“You okay?” Sen asked, sliding onto the bench next to him. He didn’t know how long it had been or when she’d spotted him over here. He moved to one side away from her, until they each rested against a wall with the corner spaced evenly between them. He gave a low smile.

“Fine.”

She made a small snort of amusement. “Well, you’re a bad liar. What is it?”

The attempted cheer faded off his face and he shrugged. “It’s…” He hesitated. He didn’t want to lie to her face. Again. “Nothing important.”

She considered him, her dark eyes peering into and past his face. “It’s about your dad. Isn’t it?”

Sen wasn’t just good at sniping with a rifle. Apparently her aim was just as good with words.

“I guess so,” he replied reluctantly. “Nothing I can do anything about, though.”

“You could talk about it.”

He sighed and sipped at his drink. “I could, but I’m not sure what that would accomplish.”

“You might be surprised,” she leaned her chin into her palm. “Do you miss him?”

“Well, yeah, I suppose,” he muttered unconvincingly. Sen didn’t reply, instead continuing to stare at him like she was waiting for him to elaborate. It was a surprisingly effective tactic, which he discovered when words came pouring out of his mouth again unbidden. “Even though we didn’t get along terribly well most of the time, it was hard to accept he was gone.”

“I know that feeling,” Sen sympathized gently. “Let me guess. You wanted to be a Spectre, and he was against it.”

Garrus swallowed back the sudden lump that attacked him right in the back of his throat. Was she that intuitive, or was it just that obvious? “Yeah, actually. He all but said he’d disown me if I actually pursued it. Which is how I ended up at C-Sec with him, instead.”

“Sounds familiar,” one of Sen’s mandibles twitched in a wry fashion.

Garrus’ brow plates raised. “Oh?”

“My brother hates that I’m here,” she sighed ruefully. “Well, half-brother. Our dad left his mom for mine when he was a kid, and he’s never really forgiven me for existing.” 

“I mean, how is that in any way your fault?” He almost regretted asking, wondering if he’d overstepped, but when she replied she seemed almost eager to talk about it.

“Well, it’s not, of course, not that it matters. He was _so_ angry when he found out I’d applied here that he actually called dad up and yelled at him for a while. They hadn’t talked for years before that. Then when that didn’t accomplish anything he called to yell at me.”

“Wow,” Garrus blinked at her. “That sounds a little extreme.”

“He can have a temper,” she acknowledged. “He did try to at least make it sound like it was because he was concerned for me, right up until I told him where he could put his unsolicited advice. I think he believes I’m doing this just to spite him, which actually only wasn’t true until after that call.”

Garrus chuckled. “Sounds like he hates Spectres almost as much as my dad did.”

Sen’s face took on a strange sort of knowing smile, and she stirred at her drink thoughtfully. “Well. Some Spectres, yeah. But screw him, you know? If he wanted me to value his opinion he shouldn’t have spent my whole life making sure I knew what I represented to him.”

“I get it,” Garrus nodded somberly. “At least you stood up to him. Me, I never had the stones to do this until after wasn’t around for me to disappoint.”

Sen reached over and set her hand slowly, gently on his forearm, only fully relaxing it when he didn’t pull away. “I saw the article on the extranet a while back. It was a big news story for a few days. Sounded like it was a targeted attack set up specifically for him?”

“Yeah, I-” his throat was trying to close on him. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lifting her hand again as he put away more of his drink and shook his head.

“It’s...just what it is.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes drinking. Sen cleared her throat and peered at him.

“Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer any particular way.”

Considering the conversation to this point, he was wary. But he nodded anyway. She fidgeted a little, and he realized he’d never seen her fidget before.

“You and Shepard- you were serious about that not being a thing?”

Garrus’ guts churned. As though this conversation needed to get _worse_.

“Completely serious,” he replied emphatically. “What you saw...I really don’t know what that was. I’m just as confused about it as you must have been.”

Sen’s talons grazed over her glass as she stared down at the liquid. “You didn’t look confused at the time.”

Garrus rubbed at his forehead, trying to will this night to be over faster. “Nothing like that’s ever happened to me before, and I still don’t know why it did. But I promise you, nothing’s going on.”

“You’re sure?”

Garrus heaved a sigh and looked over to her helplessly. “ _Really_ sure. Why?”

She leaned forward into him without warning, slipping a hand up his neck just under his jaw and pressing her forehead up against his. Her other hand found his upper arm, trailing its way downward as she nuzzled into him with steadily building pressure. He was frozen by it, his already overloaded thoughts completely locking up.

“We could go somewhere…” she murmured into his ear, “if you wanted…”

Spirits. _Spirits_. She was into him! How long had _that_ been true? Hell, how did he never seem to notice a woman coming onto him until it was this blatant? He pored over every prior interaction looking for hints of flirtation or expressions of interest that he’d missed. Or he tried. But mostly he was thinking that she smelled good, that her dark eyes were actually pretty alluring. That he hadn’t noticed any of that because up until this second he’d have never considered he even had a chance with a woman like her, and that maybe-

Then he caught a glimpse past her head. Ky made direct eye contact with him from the other table, brows raised, as he took a long pull of his drink. Oh. Just perfect.

Garrus pulled back from her reluctantly, trying a small, self-deprecating laugh that came out a cough. He was trying really, really hard to figure out how to handle this new conundrum. “Okay, and how much have _you_ had to drink tonight?”

She smiled at him, running a hand over the front of his shirt. “Not so much that I don’t know what I’m doing.” She slowly came to the realization that he wasn’t actively reciprocating her advances. “It’s...all right, if you’re not interested.”

Of _course_ he was. Or, he felt he should be. Normally, this would have been the only possible way to top the rush he’d gotten from the stunt he’d pulled off in the arena. Senairis was someone he’d considered to be too far above his level, and here she was practically throwing herself at him. He couldn’t think of any good reason to turn her down, not even that he’d get shit from Ky about it later. Hell, he’d have been proud of it.

But here he was, hesitating. For all of his protests against the idea that he and Shepard had something going on, he was struck unexpectedly by the concern of how she might react if she found out about him and Sen. If taking this path may close off that one, make the discussion he’d been trying to have with Shepard redundant. He didn’t know if he was ready to accept that consequence. 

“I….” he stammered. “It’s just…”

He was rescued from himself by Sen getting a message over her omnitool. She pulled up the display and glowered, fully baring her teeth.

“Damn it all…” she spat, throwing back the rest of her drink. She angrily typed a quick reply and then looked at him again, her expression shifting to regret. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Garrus breathed, watching her leave in a flurry of ire and cursing. Totally avoiding looking over at the table where the others were still having a great time, he decided now was as good a time as any to catch a cab back. Things were decidedly not going to get any better here.

By the time he was heading up the stairs of the residential hall, he was both physically and mentally exhausted. He had no more wants or concerns besides crawling into bed and sleeping in as long as he could manage. Maybe he’d even take something pharmaceutical to make sure he didn’t wake up several times in the night wracked with intrusive thoughts about how ridiculously dramatic his life was quickly becoming. He keyed open the door and stumbled in through the dark, and became quickly aware he wasn’t alone. And his visor handily informed him that the shadowed figure in the living room very much wasn’t Kandros. He rushed to hit the light, and an asari woman raised her hand up over her eyes to shield against the brightness.

“I was just using the restroom!” she squeaked, holding her hands up. 

Garrus thought he recognized her from the arena earlier. He’d only seen her briefly, but he was almost sure she was one of the asari from the opposing team. But there had been two, and he didn’t know which name went with which face. Thoughts billowed up to his foremind, about the tampered door and the listening device. Now there was an intruder in his quarters.

“What the hell were you doing in here?” he demanded, suddenly on guard. He put himself between her and the door, squaring himself in case she made a move at him. His mind started to run through the grilling he was inclined to give her.

“Uh,” she bit at her bottom lip, eyes widening in fear. “I was-”

“You’re back early,” Kandros groused sleepily from the bedroom doorway, folding her arms over one another and leaning against the frame. He blinked at her, then back to the asari.

“Kandros?” The gears started turning and pieces fell into place, a little too slowly. “Is she-”

“My guest? Yes,” Kandros replied with flat affect. “Is that a problem?”

He shook his head, and the asari woman made a few timid movements before sliding around him towards the door.

“Good night, Nyreen,” she called and Kandros returned the sentiment, then glared a minute more at Garrus before shaking her head and returning to the bedroom.

“Men,” she muttered irritably. Garrus sighed and glanced about the living room.

“Well,” he sighed to himself. “This one, at least.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Saw some movement to your left,” Alenko’s soft voice came over the comm. Shepard shifted in her crouched position slowly, carefully, eyes sweeping the area. Ignoring the leg cramp, she twisted to peer out into the open area past her hiding spot. Whoever he’d seen was laying low for the moment.

The weekend had come and gone in a blur, and the new week brought a new war-game style challenge for the candidates. The arena had been dismantled and remade anew, now a single-level maze of prefabs and crates. The objective was for one team to make it stealthily through the winding course to the exit, while avoiding the other team whose goal was to wipe them all out. Alenko had made a lame crack about it, calling it ‘Hide ‘n Sneak.’ He was the only familiar face on her team, but it was still a vast improvement over last week. She also hadn’t been made leader this time; there was no official captain for either team. But Alenko and at least a couple of their squadmates had been deferring to her anyway. Most of them were off on the other half of the arena, stalking for the opponent that seemed to be doing the best job of not being seen.

There it was, the barest shift of the lighting where her eyes told her there was no one. It was a wobble in the very perspective of the ground and walls, like the heat rising off an open fire. Shepard didn’t react immediately, waiting until she saw it lurch in one direction before taking her shot. The cloak dropped and the now-visible human man cursed and dropped to his knees in exasperation. He’d been close; Shepard had taken position nearest the exit. Shepard gave him a compassionate nod and returned her attention to the field, moving slowly along a narrow gap between the buildings. Two left.

“Does this assignment feel a little too easy?” Alenko asked, right as Shepard registered the noise of his cryogenic tech activating. “I thought when they told us it was six of us against twelve of them I’d figured we had a tough time ahead.”

“It’s the beginning of the week,” she replied. “We’re up against some of the lower-tier candidates. Filtering them out, maybe.”

“Well that doesn’t seem fair to them. Is that good news for our standing?”

“Hoping so. How’d your team do on the last exercise? I forgot to ask.”

“We took the win,” he returned nonchalantly. “I didn’t get any kills, myself, but I helped make sure the other team from getting to the LZ, at least. And stopped this one guy who was convinced that destroying the ‘object’ was an instant win for us from doing anything rash.”

“Huh,” Shepard ducked back behind a wall, almost certain she’d seen the last of the opposition. They must have slipped past the rest of her team. “Yeah, my squad had one of those too. Times a thousand. Oddly enough, I think your guy may have been on to something.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

There was the slightest shift in the reflection of light, confirming her suspicions. She vaguely entertained the idea of letting the last of the opposition get by, just to let them have a small victory. It was funny, now that her conversation with Nihlus had largely taken the pressure off, she was simultaneously performing better and feeling more magnanimous towards the other competitors.

But no. They were tempering Spectres, here. Holding back would only be doing the whole program a disservice. And even if she herself had a leg up, she still needed to keep demonstrating her capacity.

“I tried asking Williams over the weekend, but she wouldn’t talk about it.”

He paused a minute and sounded sheepish when he came back. “Probably because she was on the other team.”

“Ah.” Shepard winced sympathetically, despite there being no way for him to see it. “Hey, I think I’ve got the last one here if you wanna help me box them in.”

“On it. Be right over.”

But as Shepard popped back out, she realized her target had found her first, and was going on the offensive. They leapt forward at her into point-blank range, their cloak dissipating, and Shepard recognized the distinctive helmet of a salarian. Shepard dropped back beneath the line of fire and kicked out at their legs, and their submachine gun fire went wild. She brought her rifle back to bear and started shooting back, but her opponent dodged away and vanished back under their cloak. Unfortunately for them, Alenko had gotten a visual just in time to target an overload pulse on the guy’s cloaking generator. Sparks flew and the salarian dropped back out of invisibility. He was making a run for it, but Shepard easily landed a small burst of shots at the middle of his back when he was fewer than six meters out from the finish. His armor lit up almost instantly. He flopped down and cried out in frustration.

Alenko helped her back to her feet as the display ahead announced their victory.

“Well,” Alenko sighed. “The big event of the week, over already. Almost disappointing.”

“Only almost?” Shepard smiled as they headed back to the locker room. He chuckled.

Once they were changed, showered and back outside, it was nearly time for dinner. Alenko gave her a gentlemanly bow, urging her to go ahead of him on the way to the cafeteria.

“So...got any plans for tonight?”

Shepard blinked and came back to reality. “Oh. Yeah. I’m heading out for a bit.”

He cleared his throat and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Right. Okay.”

“Alenko?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Listen-” Shepard sighed and turned on him. She already had another talk like this coming later, she may as well take this as a warmup. But he raised his hands and stopped her.

“No, really, it’s not like that. I mean, it _was_ , but I can take a hint, Shepard, message received. I’m just used to having more people around to spend time with. Grew up with a lot of extended family, had lots of close friends back in my old unit, that sort of thing. You and Williams are both out most evenings, so it’s been kind of lonely back at housing. That’s all.”

Shepard relaxed almost immediately, and only then realized how highly strung she’d been getting over what she’d been putting off. She knew she had a tendency to push her social and emotional issues off, ignoring them while she got the things done that actually needed doing. But she could only keep things simmering on the back burner for so long. Then they had a habit of coming for her hard when she least expected it.

“I wouldn’t think it’d be that hard for a guy like you to make some friends.”

“Been trying that, but it’s easier said than done when everyone sees everyone else as competition. Plus, it’s getting increasingly more unavoidable that two thirds of us won’t be here much longer. People here are less keen to make connections that they know won’t last more than a few weeks. But don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” she said as they neared the cafeteria. “But if you want, I can-”

They were interrupted by a sudden commotion just outside the dual cafeteria entrances. A fight had broken out, throwing Shepard reflexively into high alert as she bolted in towards the action. Alenko called out after her, but was hot on her heels. As she shoved her way through the gathering crowd, she was dismayed to find Williams at the center of it.

She caught sight of the woman just as she was barrelling into the waist of a turian man, lifting him into the air and slamming him flat onto the ground. She then threw a leg across his chest to pin him, and began to rain blow after furious blow at his face. His arms came up to block her assault. Shepard leapt forward, wrapping her arms around Williams’ waist and hauling her off him.

“The hell are you doing?!” Shepard demanded.

“Say that shit again!” Williams was bellowing frothily at her target, then began ripping at Shepard’s arms. “Let me go, this prick has something to say about Shangxi!”

Another turian was helping the man up, and he sneered over at Williams. “I appreciate you proving my case, human,” he snapped, wiping at the blood trailing from his nose. 

Shepard tossed Williams over at Alenko, and pointed roughly away from the cafeteria, glaring at the turian. “You get the hell out of here.”

He snorted and started to step forward. Another turian went to pull on his arm, but he ignored it. “You don’t-”

“All right, you’ve all had enough,” Jondum Bau came walking casually out of the levo cafeteria, wiping his hands together. He looked between Williams and her nemesis of the moment. “How about the three of us go have a little chat about this, hm?”

Shepard glared at Williams, who only mirrored the expression before angrily following after Bau back towards the Spectre offices. Alenko sidled back up to her as the crowd dissipated.

“Well that was exciting.”

  
  


Dinner was quiet, which was what Shepard needed to mentally reboot and get into the right frame of mind. She wasn’t relishing what she needed to do, but the longer she avoided it, the bigger it was going to end up looming over her.

It was early evening by the time she was making her way down the footpath to the row of residential buildings opposite her own. She hadn’t tried another building’s entrance before, but she’d seen enough non-resident traffic in her own to assume it was going to work. Sure enough, her omnitool activated the main entry like she belonged there. She expected her visit was being logged in a database somewhere, video of her being recorded and the relevant statistics filed away along with it. Really, it better have been. It would be a glaring, massive security risk otherwise. 

The layout here was exactly the same as her own building, the decor just as spartan, the directory in the same place on a back wall of the commons. _Kandros, Quillan, Vakarian_. Third floor, room 2. Fair enough. She trotted her way up the stairs, ignoring the curious or unwelcoming looks of some of the residents she passed. It was to be expected, as the rest of them were turian, and she was very obviously out of place. Shepard found her destination without trouble, under a placard where the Arabic numeral ‘2’ was printed among its equivalents in various other written languages. She found it curious that they’d have bothered with the non-turian languages in a turian-exclusive dorm. 

She tapped the side panel to trigger the tone that would announce her presence, and folded her hands at her back, waiting. It took almost thirty seconds, but then the door slid back to reveal Garrus standing behind it, his expression perplexed. He practically jumped at seeing her.

“Shepard!” he exclaimed. “I, ah, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You wanted to talk,” she shrugged, “And I’m free right now. I didn’t really have any other way to get in contact with you.”

Ky peered around from behind Garrus, and snorted incredulously at the sight of her. “Spirits, Vakarian, thought you said you two weren’t a thing. Or was that for your other girlfriend’s benefit?”

Shepard was no expert on turian expression but she’d gotten a pretty good idea of most of the broad strokes. Going by Garrus’ widened eyes and tensing posture as he stared daggers into the wall behind her, he either wanted to drop dead or was contemplating the commission of a murder.

“Not a good time?” Shepard asked.

“Ky thinks he’s funny,” Garrus blurted, moving forward suddenly into her space, forcing her to back away as he hurriedly closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, now should be fine.”

She raised a brow at him.

“Didn’t realize you were in such high demand.”

“I’m _really_ not,” he insisted, scratching at the back of his neck and watching as another resident passed by, peering at them. “Maybe we could head down to the amphitheater? It’s usually pretty empty.”

“Lead the way.”

A handful of other people in pairs or small groups were out enjoying the sunset and unwinding. In another set of circumstances this might have been somewhat romantic. The area was designed to seat at least 90, so there was plenty enough space for the two of them to carve out a reasonable level of privacy from the others present. She settled herself on one of the long, curved metal banks that served as mass seating, and leaned her elbows back against the terraced rise behind her. Garrus took a seat a little over a meter away from her, but he was practically crawling out of his own skin as he attempted to get comfortable.

“So,” she said.

“Yeah,” he replied, staring down at the ground like a kid who’d been sent to the office. “So.”

There was a long, awkward pause. She could tell he was hoping she would be the one to lead the conversation. Maybe she should; she’d been the instigator of their conundrum, after all. Except now she had Ky’s offhand comment in her head and was second guessing having come down here at all. Before she’d made her decision, Garrus spoke again.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he stated definitively.

“Okay.”

Her laconic response seemed to fluster him even more. “This may come as a surprise, but I’m not _great_ with women. I just seem to have a knack for getting myself into misunderstandings and uncomfortable situations.”

“Like right now.”

He sighed. “Exactly.”

There was another long silence as they both stared out at the horizon, where the sky was blossoming to fiery life. Then in her peripheral, Shepard recognized his face turning downward to the ground. It was regular old dirt and grass between the gleaming metal benches, newly planted probably less than a couple of months ago.

“Speaking of which,” Garrus croaked. “That whole... _thing._ From the other day. That was...weird, right?”

Shepard looked over at him. He was still staring down at the ground, fidgeting his hands together. His body language was screaming that he was stressed all to hell and back. Having it hanging in the back of her mind hadn’t been all that pleasant for herself, either, but Garrus was just plain nearly coming undone about it. She hadn’t expected him to have been quite this bothered.

“Is that how you would describe it?”

Garrus stopped fidgeting. His head turned part way towards her, but stopped before he was in danger of meeting her eyes. “Yeah. Sure. I mean, I’d never even considered doing... _anything_ with a human before that. I can’t really explain it.”

“I haven’t exactly made a habit of seducing turians, either,” she replied dryly with a half-smile. He finally looked up at her, a degree of the tension he was carrying easing. He gave her words some thought.

“Then...what even happened back there? What _was_ that?”

It was a variation on the question she’d actually been pondering herself the whole weekend. What exactly had it been about Garrus that had turned a lark, a passing whim, into something that she kept intermittently coming back to?

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Just got caught up in the moment, I guess.”

“It wasn’t...planned?”

Shepard frowned, rising up on her elbows. Something about the tone of his question sounded almost like a vague accusation.

“What are you saying?”

His eyes flashed up to her. “I mean, you have to admit, it came out of nowhere. It just seemed like you were maybe…”

“Spit it out, Vakarian.”

His breathing was noticeably picking up, and his hands curling tight on his knees. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t just messing with me. Playing mind games to get back at me.”

Even if she acknowledged he had a moderately good reason for concern, her gut reaction was to take offense. That was something she could easily imagine that degenerate Nika doing, and the comparison kicked her mood down a well of anger. She leaned forward, pressing her hands into her knees as leverage, and stood sharply. Garrus sat stock upright, hands raising almost defensively, startled.

“Because that’s something you think I’d do?” she demanded.

“No!” Garrus protested. “I don’t. Listen, I...I just tend to go to the worst case scenario. I hardly even know you, that’s the whole point. If you say that isn’t the case, I believe you.”

His reassurance didn’t completely mollify her anger, though it at least plateaued. She bit her ire into her bottom lip, glaring back off out to where the sky was settling into a purplish twilight.

“I was curious,” she admitted. “I got the impression you might be interested, and that interested _me_ , so I was testing the waters. I ended up taking it farther than I meant to. I don’t know why, it just happened. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replied, quieter, and she glanced down at him. She took in a long breath, letting it pour out through her nostrils.

“All right,” she replied, forcing civility into her voice. “Then that’s settled. Yes, it was weird. No, I don’t have some ulterior motive. So. Now what?”

He blinked up at her, their eyes connecting intently.

“You mean you- are you saying you want to see where it goes?” he asked. His inflection bore a tinge of hopefulness.

“I’m asking if that’s what you want,” she folded her arms low over her ribs. Garrus swallowed hard and stared at her a few pregnant seconds.

“I...I’m not sure.”

Shepard felt a low grade headache coming on. All of this drama, and he wasn’t sure? It had been his idea to have it out like this in the first place. She came dangerously close to caving to her impulse to chew him out over his indecision, when something clicked. This whole conversation, he’d been trying to get her to take the lead, to make her clarify her own thoughts and feelings while keeping his own close to the chest. As though he was afraid of his own compulsions, and wanted her to give him the go ahead to follow them. To assure him that his desires were mutual. Ever the sniper, he was waiting until he was sure of his target to take his shot.

Well, she sure as hell was not doing _that_ for him.

“Let me know what you decide, then,” she replied with curt finality, transmitting her contact information to his omnitool. “I’ll be in touch.”

And she gave him a clipped nod before striding away. She sent Alenko a message telling him to have his favorite terrible film picked out and cued up and offered to stop by the cafeteria for something as devoid of real nutritional value as possible. She desperately needed something to laugh at that wasn’t her own life right now.


	16. Chapter 16

Things couldn’t just _go right_ , Garrus had decided.

Things couldn’t be simple, or straightforward. He didn’t mind when life was hard, when he had to make difficult choices or face harsh truths, he could handle that. But it was when there was no right or wrong answer, that was where he floundered.

Like with Shepard. 

This particular situation was his own fault, though. She’d waved off all of the nonsense, back and forth questions in his head and given him a clear response. Then she’d pushed him into the corner and put the final decision on him. He should have been able to give her a simple yes or no. That should have been easy, to just know whether or not he legitimately wanted to try things with her, and to be able to say so.

And in the end, he hadn’t.

He’d spent the past several nights with his thoughts continually drifting back to their last conversation, and his eyes to where her name now resided in his contact list. All he had to do was make up his mind, and that would be that. So why was this so damned hard? Because, he realized, there was no good or bad answer, no moral imperative either external or internal to direct him on which way to go. This wasn’t an issue of black or white, even if some of his ingrained social mores seemed to disagree on that point. 

There was nothing inherently wrong with interspecies relationships; turian and asari couplings had been a thing for over a millenia now. And though Palaven was more or less homogenous, being on the Citadel it had been relatively common to see mixed relationships. Though humans had only been discovered a few decades ago, it really shouldn’t have been all that problematic, save for turians like his father who well remembered the short-lived conflict that had been their introduction to the galaxy. But he, and he assumed Shepard, hadn’t even been born yet. The same prejudices didn’t even really make sense to him when he actually thought about them for more than a minute. And why the hell was he again giving any credence to what a dead man would have thought?

Garrus had been ruminating on these questions and so many more for over a week now. And he still didn’t have a solution for any of them.

His train of thought, as well as the silence it had been steeping in, was interrupted by a barrage of gunfire off in the distance.

Close quarters firefights weren’t his specialty to begin with, though thanks to his couple of years at C-Sec he was generally competent. Not really the same as proficient, but he still held the second highest kill count today, and that was something in itself. Garrus slid along the wall he’d been following, keeping his scope up. The third to last name on his HUD went red. 

It was just him and Ky now. Just wonderful

“You been quiet,” Ky mused over the open comm. It was the first Garrus had heard from him since shortly after the match had begun. Ky had challenged him to a friendly bet on who ended up with the most kills. Garrus had brusquely declined.

“Imagine that,” Garrus snarked. “It’s almost as though we’re the last two standing in a free-for-all and I’d rather not give myself away.”

“I meant this whole last week. Love life trouble got you down?”

Garrus scowled, hoping against hope as he turned a corner that some sliver of Ky’s matte black armor would be in view. No such luck.

“You must lead a surprisingly boring life, the way you’re always trying to stay involved in mine.”

“Heh,” Ky replied. “More like you lead a surprisingly interesting life. Better than one of those trashy, romantic-drama vid series. Just trying to keep up with the excitement.”

“Well, don’t bother,” Garrus snipped, turning another corner and continuing to move in the direction he’d last heard gunfire. Something had changed in their dynamic this past week or so. Garrus wrote it off as finally being officially tired of Ky’s schtick. “We both know it’s because you’re jealous.”

“Might be a little,” Ky acquiesced. Garrus hadn’t anticipated Ky to agree with what he’d meant as a jab. “I mean, I show up here thinking I know what to expect, and here this green little C-Sec hotshot starts outshining me. Both in the field and with the ladies. You really been doing a good job keeping me on my toes.”

“Thanks for that assessment,” Garrus grumbled, finding an alcove to take cover in. Forget stalking; he was going to camp here and wait for Ky to come to him. “Good to know you won’t be that surprised when I take you out here in a minute.”

“Don’t get cocky, kid,” Ky laughed. “I’ve been doing this about a decade longer than you.”

Garrus was finding Ky’s ever-constant grinning and laughter more and more grating these days. He wedged himself against the corner and propped his rifle on a railing. If he didn’t see Ky in a few minutes he’d move to another position and repeat the whole process over again.

“You know, there is something else I noticed recently,” Ky came on after a few minutes of silence that Garrus had been enjoying. “I was checking my stats a couple days ago and saw one of my S-Tier scores got dropped to an A-Tier out of nowhere. Anything like that happen to you?”

Garrus frowned. He didn’t want to make assumptions, but Ky could very well be bullshitting, trying to distract Garrus from noticing his opponent sneaking up on him. But the claim he was making was strange. “Maybe they’re affected by how we do in these exercises.”

“Could be. But this was my tech aptitude eval, none of these little games have involved much of my skills there. You’re S-Tier, right? Hasn’t changed?”

“I would guess so. I haven’t looked.”

“Weird.”

A flash of movement. Ky had found him and popped his muzzle around a corner about six meters off. Garrus lurched to one side to bring Ky into his target range, and brought his rifle to bear. But he had to more fully expose himself to do it. His stomach dropped and he was sure, even as Ky's helmet came into scope and he pulled the trigger, that he’d lost.

“The fuck?” Ky’s furious growl came over the comm. The other man’s name lit up red, and the board declared a final victory for Garrus. Garrus stared up at the display a long wondering moment before glancing back over to Ky. The other man was fussing over his rifle, smacking it hard a few times and then pointing it up in the air and pulling the trigger rapidly. It failed to fire even once. Ky dropped to a knee and started taking it apart right then and there.

“The fuck!” he snarled again in unbridled rage. “Now someone’s been fucking with my stuff!”

Garrus moved cautiously towards him, watching his progress. The issue could have been due to a few different routine reassembly failures, Garrus thought, but quickly brushed those away as the kind of rookie mistakes and oversights no seasoned Blackwatch agent would make. But even more glaring, the rifle had been working fine for the entire match to this point. Ky’s own kill count being yet superior to Garrus’ attested to that.

“You bring any other bodies up in our quarters I don’t know about?” Ky demanded, picking up a part and clicking it open, disassembling the inner mechanism.

“No,” Garrus replied. Then hesitated, thinking back several days. The kind of mood Ky was in, though, he was reluctant to volunteer a specific name too quickly. “Kandros did at one point, I think.”

“Yeah, that asari. I already looked her up. Wouldn’t know fuck all about a piece of equipment like this.” Ky stopped, pulling a tiny cylinder out of an otherwise mundane section of casing. His voice dropped into a deadly growl that gave Garrus chills. “Well, look at that.”

Garrus did. It wasn’t a familiar device, but by Ky’s reaction it didn’t bode well.

“What is it?”  
  
  


“Remote disabling device. Tiny EMP, shorts out anything within a dozen centimeters or so, like a trigger mechanism battery. Hard to detect, simple, insidious. Only downside is they’re not terribly practical, since you have to have access to and knowledge of someone’s gear to place it.”

“Spirits,” Garrus muttered. Ky crushed the thing in his hand for no other apparent reason other than destructive inclinations. Then, his eyes flicked up to Garrus’ face. The man stared into him a long, highly uncomfortable moment.

“You’ve really never seen one of these in all your time at C-Sec?”

Garrus shook his head. The C-Sec armory was always locked up tight and its use strictly scrutinized. And if a civilian had ever happened to fall victim to something like that, they’d have likely been too dead by the time Officer Vakarian had arrived on the scene to make it known. In that instant Garrus recalled the apparent break-in and the listening device from a couple of weeks ago. Even though it didn’t complete the picture, it did fit with an instance of sabotage. He decided he needed to fill Ky in, and did so. The older man’s eyes narrowed as he listened, then widened again.

“You’re only just telling me about this _now_?”

“I’m sorry,” Garrus replied hastily. “It was under my own bunk, so it didn’t occur to me anyone else might be a target. If it had been in yours I’d definitely have said something.”

“If it’d been in _mine_ I’d have found it myself, day fucking one,” he snarled at the crumpled bits of metal in his palm. There was a stinging implication about Garrus’ questionable grasp of perception in what he said. Garrus also realized on his own his staggering failure to suppose that just because the device had been among his things, didn’t mean it was meant specifically for him. Ky went quiet, hard bursts of breath pulsing from his nose as he stared into space, deep in seething thought. Garrus stood, his own heart racing, collapsing his rifle and putting it away.

“I’m going to go see Spectre Rix about this,” he stated with intent, not adding ‘like I probably should have two weeks ago despite my misgivings.’

“You do that,” Ky replied in that same low, dangerous tone, not looking up at him. Garrus took a few halting steps while watching the other man remain crouched in quiet contemplation over the half-dissected rifle, then turned and headed off.

He passed right through the locker rooms without getting out of his armor, glancing at the time. This exercise had been the last of the day, and early evening was setting in. He checked his schedule, which indicated that Spectre Rix ought to be still in his office for at least a little while longer. So that was where he needed to go.

Garrus ran at a steady pace the entire way to the mentoring offices, ignoring the bemused looks of everyone he passed. If he hadn’t been fully decked out in his armor and weapons, his racing around the compound might not have seemed so odd. The arena was almost diametrically opposite the offices and the compound was a handful of kilometers across, so it was quite the workout. The bulk of his gear also added an extra factor of exertion, and he was almost out of breath by the time he reached his destination. He tapped the panel to the side of the door, and was dismayed when it responded with a ‘Out of Office’ code. He whipped his head about, finally catching sight of Spectre Maerun who was passing by and sipping at a cup of something steaming.

“I’m sorry, would you happen to know where Spectre Rix is?”

Maerun tilted his head a little, then jerked back up as though remembering. “Ah. I think he retired early tonight. Should be in his quarters.”

Garrus bit back a small curse. “Is there a way for me to contact him there? It’s important.”

“Hm,” Maerun pondered him a moment. Garrus’ armor and rifle didn’t seem to phase him one bit. “Yes, I suppose that should be fine. Spectre housing is this way. Follow.”

Garrus eagerly tailed the Spectre, who thankfully didn’t trouble him with more questions or small talk. They passed through a set of doors at the far end of the office halls and into a high, long hallway with tall windows and decorative plants. Beyond that was an area that reminded him almost exactly of the Presidium on the Citadel, where he’d been posted while in C-Sec. The entire area was enclosed, the ceiling lit up with a false sky display and the sides lined with tall trees and shrubbery. The small complex comprised of of thirty identical, elegant apartments set into the high walls, surrounding a sort of cul-de-sac footpath with a clear stream running down the middle, culminating in a fountain. It wasn’t all that surprising to him that the Spectres had been given such luxe accommodations, though he still felt a tiny surge of envy not unlike that which he’d had for Presidium residents. 

Maerun waved towards one of the apartments at the end of the walkway.

“That one there, just left of center. Maybe don’t mention me,” he grinned a little, then wandered back off the way he’d come. Garrus trotted the rest of the way down the lane until he reached the front door, hesitating only a second before tapping the call panel.

There was no noise from the inside, and after waiting a few minutes he started to wonder whether he should really be here. Maybe Rix was in the shower, or sleeping. He was almost certainly overstepping his bounds coming out here, taking a significant risk. He almost turned to leave, but then steeled his resolve, deciding he couldn’t go back and face Ky again tonight if he hadn’t dealt with this like he should have already. Garrus was just reaching for the panel again, when the door opened. 

Rix...did not look happy. The first thing Garrus noticed beyond the man’s obvious displeasure was the Spectre’s tunic, which was disheveled in a way that reminded him of whenever he’d had to dress quickly or in the dark. But the next thing he noticed was a figure moving in the background. Another turian man moved into view past the Spectre’s shoulder, folding his arms and leaning against the counter, his face wielding an even more poisonous glare than the one Rix was fixing on Garrus. His clothing consisted of the same jet black casual suit that Ky had worn to the club. Blackwatch.

He blinked, eyes darting in a panic between the two of them as it hit him.

“I...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” he stammered and started to step backward.

“You’re already here, Vakarian,” Rix grumbled. “Now just tell me why.”

Garrus swallowed a few times but couldn’t seem to defeat the mass that was dominating his throat. He launched into a quick rundown of the device he’d found and his observations regarding the door. His exposition was laden with over-explanations and apologies, and Rix maintained an impatient glare throughout. Before he could get to today’s events, Rix interrupted him.

“We’re aware of the situation with the devices,” Rix replied sternly, sounding almost bored. Garrus’ mind faltered. Devices, plural? Who else had found one? Who had placed them? What was being done?

“We have the situation under control,” Rix continued, dashing away most of the questions exploding into Garrus’ thoughts. “Is there anything else?”

Behind Rix, the other man shook his head in exasperation and looked away.

“Yes, actually. About a half hour ago in the arena, Quillan’s rifle malfunctioned. Upon further inspection, he-”

“ _Quillan_?” the other man snapped, his voice tense, and Rix winced with frustration. The man took a few long strides towards them, turning his attention to Rix. “Kyeros Quillan is _here_?”

“Not. Now. Macen,” Rix quietly insisted through his teeth in response.

“And you didn’t bother saying anything to me!” Macen ignored him, hackles on the rise. “Who the hell approved that barefaced, dishonorable bastard’s application?”

Their spat seemed to temporarily suspend their collective recollection of Garrus’ presence. He shifted in place and looked away. He’d made a terrible mistake in coming here and was deliberating if he could slink away unnoticed, taking advantage of their distraction.

“It was out of my hands,” Rix growled back. “But I’ve been dealing with it. Leave it.”

“Where is Kyeros now?” Macen’s attention shifted to Garrus, who stopped in the middle of taking a few steps backward. His eyes sought out Rix, not sure anything good could come out of giving Macen an answer.

“ _Stop_ ,” Rix barked at Macen, then turned to glower at Garrus again. “You inspected his rifle and what?”

“It...it was sabotaged, sir,” Garrus all but whispered. “Deliberately.”

Rix’s face was still angry but took on a veneer of alarm, while Macen snorted derisively in the background.

“Good. Sounds like someone had the right idea. Shame it didn’t happen during a live fire exercise.”

Rix shot Macen a look, then nodded to Garrus. “Is that all?”

“For now,” Garrus replied.

“All right then,” Rix grumbled. “Next time you have something you need to tell me, wait until I’m in my office. If it’s an emergency, there are twenty-nine other Spectres who all keep one another well informed of everything that goes on here. Now _go_.”

Garrus followed the order expediently as the argument resumed behind him, silenced only by the closing door.


	17. Chapter 17

It was Shepard’s third time meeting Nihlus in his office, and what had originally been an exciting covert assignment had been largely a disappointment. She still hadn’t gathered anything actually useful. The closest to anything suspicious she’d observed was Nika cornering Kyeros in the training gym a few days back. She hadn’t been close enough to hear what they’d been saying, but whatever it was, Ky hadn’t been impressed and wound up getting in the woman’s face for a few seconds before storming out. When Shepard had brought up that and her other concerns about Nika with him, he’d only assured her that Vasir was well aware of the situation and Shepard needn’t bother herself.

“Shepard. What do you have for me?” Nihlus asked as he pored over something on a datapad. A cup of dextro coffee that appeared to have cooled to room temperature sat on one end of the desk. He still sipped at it, which made Shepard gag in the back of her throat sympathetically.

There was, in fact, something significant to report this time. Two days prior, she’d returned to her quarters to Alenko telling her that earlier in the morning, Williams had entered the suite, grabbed her pistol, and left. All without saying a word to Alenko, or responding to his alarmed questioning of her actions. Shepard had meant to have a talk with her, but she’d never returned to their quarters that night. Nor had she responded to messages. Her things were all still back at the bunk, so as far as Shepard could tell she wasn’t just staying elsewhere. She was simply gone.

“I haven’t seen my roommate, Ashley Williams, in a few days,” Shepard informed him. “Neither has anyone else I’ve talked to.”

“Oh, that,” Nihlus replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “She was involved in a series of confrontations with another candidate. The most recent escalation was a challenge to a duel, I believe, which is something that might have been tolerated in other circumstances, but not here or now. She and the other candidate were both ejected immediately.”

“What?” Shepard demanded. “Why didn’t anyone say anything to me, or Alenko? As far as we could tell, she’d vanished into thin air. Anything could have happened to her.”

“The current standing of other candidates is generally their own business and no one else’s,” Nihlus replied in a cool tone. “She’s not the first candidate to be ejected and I have no reason to believe she’ll be the last.”

“That’s…” Shepard wanted to say ‘bullshit.’ Williams had been kicked out but somehow Nika was still here, after everything. It flew in the face of the very concept of fairness. She leaned forward with her elbows over her knees instead, resigned to fate. Nothing she could do or say was going to change the situation. “I understand.”

“Anything else?” Nihlus asked.

“No,” Shepard admitted. “You know, it would help if I had actual intel to work with. Maybe if you could give me an idea of what or who I should be on the lookout for. I’m running around blind, out here.”

“Your present function is to passively gather information for me, not for us to collaborate on that which I currently have. I also don’t need you bringing attention to yourself by actively surveilling specific targets.”

“I would have hoped you had the confidence that I’d be smart about it.”

“The trust I’m putting in you is only one facet of a much larger picture. There’s still plenty I can’t tell you simply based on the fact that you’re not a Spectre.”

“Yet.” Shepard snorted. “Honestly, this whole thing feels kind of pointless.

“I assure you, it’s not. Quiet often means the enemy is just being more careful. We need to be patient.”

“Sure,” she sighed and stood. “But for now, I have an exercise to go get ready for.”

“On your way, then.”

\---

It had been almost two weeks since she and Garrus had said anything to one another. But Shepard was not going to be the one to break the silence first, and she was quickly starting to believe that he wasn’t going to, either. Might as well assume by this point his answer was a ‘no.’ It wasn’t worth dwelling on anymore, she decided. For a moment in time it had been a fun diversion, but she couldn’t let herself get so wrapped up in it she forgot what she was actually here to do.

For right now, that meant soon she would be crawling through a literal maze of tunnels trying to find the exit, all the while looking for and disabling mocked-up explosives, alarms and other traps. She would be accompanied by other candidates working toward the same goal, but there would be no opposing team. That was a nice change of pace.

The other competing candidates all gathered in the opening lobby included Ryssa, Barati and Welod from the first week’s event, the first time she’d been matched up with either previous teammates or opponents. There was also a turian biotic named Kandros who Ryssa seemed to be on rather good terms with.

“Good to meet you, Kandros,” she nodded, assured by the woman returning the gesture. “Funnily enough, you’re not the first Cabal soldier I’ve worked with while here. You familiar with Teg and Dax?”

“Yeah, those guys,” she snickered a little. “Not from my unit, but we’ve crossed paths before. They’re...enthusiastic, I’ll say that much.”

Ryssa smiled a little, tweaking the settings on her pistol. “I think they’re nice.”

“‘Nice’ wasn’t the word you used before,” Kandros ragged on her playfully. Shepard had never seen an asari blush before. It brought a smile to her face. Kandros turned and jutted her chin out at Shepard. 

“Vakarian’s one of my roommates, you know. The less dense of the two, as it were. Heard you and him were a thing.”

Shepard’s mild smile flattened into a glare of displeasure she was glad was hidden by her helmet. She was sure Kandros hadn’t meant anything by it. “You heard wrong.”

Kandros looked surprised. “Oh. Sorry for assuming.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Shepard,” Barati acknowledged her with a casual salute that Shepard returned. Shepard may have been an N7, but Barati was technically higher in standard rank. “I wanted to say, it’s nice to be on your side this time.”

“Hey, our team beat hers, remember?” Welod tittered. “In pretty spectacular fashion, too. Wish I had a vid of it.”

Ryssa shied away from the conversation right then, but Barati burst into laughter.

“Oh _god_ yes. That woman is certifiable,” she said, then turned a sly look on Kandros. “You know, I seem to remember _something_ going on stage at the mixer, involving her and a turian woman who looked an awful lot like-”

“Spirits. _Please_ don’t,” Kandros begged. “I admit I sometimes have questionable judgement, especially when I’ve been drinking. But in my defense I wasn’t aware at the time of just how deranged she is. I’d really rather just forget the whole thing ever happened.”

“That’s a great idea, let’s all do that,” Shepard agreed, intercepting any more potential teasing Kandros might have been subject to. The woman looked relieved and grateful. Shepard couldn’t deny that she was pleased, however, that they had all been bonding over what a vicious psychopath Nika was. There was a kind of solace in knowing her view on the matter was widely shared.

It wasn’t much longer before the yellow light lit up indicating all members of the previous team had cleared the tunnels, one way or another. It had taken them a little under twenty minutes, giving Shepard a small indication of what they were up against.

“Who wants to take point?” she asked the group. Ultimately they all decided together that having one tech specialist to the front and the other running drag was the best strategy, one to preempt obstacles and the other to anticipate any surprises from behind. The biotic specialists would be deploying shields as well as providing any needed cover for the techs. Kandros was positioned in the middle, fitting for her tech/biotic hybrid specs. 

The tunnels were small enough that they all had to crouch, and only Ryssa and Welod were able to move with any kind of ease. Barati was carefully scanning as they moved along, throwing up a fist every so often to indicate a halt. She didn’t have much trouble with most of the first few obstacles, but the difficulty was ramping up quickly. 

“I’m getting a read here but I’m not sure what it is,” Barati lamented. “Shit. They’ve got all sorts of advanced tech up in this joint. Welod, wanna give me an assist?”

“Ah, if I must,” Welod joked, sliding past the rest of the team with relative ease.

“Is it hot in here to anyone else?” Ryssa asked.

“I’m fine,” Kandros shrugged.

“To anyone who _isn’t_ a turian?” Ryssa half-smiled.

“Yeah, it’s a bit warm,” Shepard acknowledged, then paused. “Barati, wait-”

Barati had shifted forward to give Welod room, and a sudden light flared on at the corner just in front of Barati, a holographic depiction of flames filling most of the tunnel all around them. All three biotics threw their readied shields at once. Shepard’s HUD informed her they were under attack by a simulated flamethrower blast. Biotic shields did well enough against fire for a few seconds, but they didn’t stop most of the ambient heat. Which would shortly be a serious problem as their respective life support indicators started sending up damage warnings.

“Pressure plate!” Barati barked, putting her back to the holo-flames and curling herself in front of Welod like a shield. 

“I got it-” Welod piped, hacking into the nearby deployment mechanism frantically.

The salarian shut the trap down before too much damage was done, but Barati’s simulated life signs weren’t looking great. Even the added protection of Kandros’ dome shield had only barely helped. Shepard activated her medigel deployment sim, which she thought ought to do enough for her that she’d still be able to finish with the rest of them.

“Damn it,” Barati cursed. “So, I vote next time Ryssa says something we all listen.”

There was a ripple of laughter through the squad. Ryssa brushed off the praise. “Just a lucky coincidence. Not like I’m prescient or anything.”

“The heat may have been a hint, though,” Kandros suggested. “Part of the test, checking our situational awareness.”

“That’s a good point,” Shepard agreed. “Barati, maybe you and Welod should switch positions for now.”

“You did good, Shohreh,” Welod said quietly, patting her shoulder. “You’re my hero.” Barati beamed at him, then shuffled dutifully to the back of the line. Once her life signs were stable, they continued on. Slower, this time.

“So, Ryssa,” Barati prodded a few minutes later while Welod was hacking his way through another trap. “Word gets around. You were hooking up with that Nika chick, weren’t you?”

“Not anymore,” Ryssa replied quickly, moving a little closer to Kandros.

“And you didn’t see the crazy coming? At all?”

Ryssa frowned deeply, staring at the ground. Her voice went unexpectedly sharp. “I don’t want to _talk_ about it.”

“Sorry,” Barati raised her palms up. “Was just curious.”

“There’s...there’s more to her than just that,” Ryssa offered unasked, which to Shepard almost sounded strangely like a defense of the woman they were discussing. Apparently even the scene Nika had made in the locker room hadn’t totally soured their connection. There were things it made Shepard want to say, but this really wasn’t the time.

“We still have a thing to do, here,” Shepard reminded them. 

They did, and they were getting close to the end surprisingly quickly. Barati had been good, but Welod was a proper virtuoso with detection and hacking. They moved steadily through the maze, taking frequent stops to scan the layout ahead and only occasionally running into a dead end and having to turn around. Finally they reached a six meter or so long gap where it looked like a section of the tunnel had been dropped ten meters or so to the ground below. A set of turrets lined the walls on either side, and Shepard guessed they were motion sensor activated.

“Well this looks fun,” Welod remarked and pointed at the turrets. “Those are too far out of my range. Ideas?”

“Ryssa and I can get ourselves across no problem, but floating everyone else across will be trickier. We’ll have to take care of the turrets first.”

“I can put them in stasis,” Ryssa suggested. “If I rotate through them I can probably keep them all locked up long enough to get everyone past, then come across once everyone else is safe.”

“You’re sure?” Kandros asked, and Ryssa nodded with a smile. She seemed happy just to be of use.

And so they enacted their plan. Shepard would use a lower-powered biotic throw to send each of the other squadmates across, coaching them on how to roll as they came out of it. Kandros offered herself as a test subject, both because she would be able to shield herself from any possible injury during descent and also play catcher to Shepard’s pitching.

Shepard carefully attuned herself to her biotic energy, feeling for that sweet spot that she estimated would give Kandros enough momentum to reach the other side but not splatter her into a surface beyond. Welod provided a countdown, telling Shepard exactly when to throw Kandros across once all of the turrets had been neutralized. The turian woman landed in a surprisingly graceful tumble and then climbed to her feet, throwing Shepard a distinctly human thumbs-up gesture. That brought out a spontaneous laugh even through the tension of the moment.

Barati was next, and Kandros not only helped to catch her but threw up a dome shield behind her. Then came Welod, who let out a gleeful chuckle at the sensation of being covered in biotic energy that turned into a startled yelp as he sailed suddenly through the air, to the sound of even more laughter.

“Oh, goddess,” Ryssa said just as Shepard was drawing in the energy to charge herself across. “Um, I think I forgot which one I did last-”

One of the turrets dropped out of stasis and whirled on them, locking on Shepard and loudly firing a barrage of nonlethal ammo. Shepard shoved Ryssa back behind the corner, out of its line of sight, checking herself and finding to her relief that she hadn’t been hit. Within a few seconds, the stasis was wearing off of the other turrets as well, and now they had a target lock. The same trick would no longer work now that they were target locked; Ryssa needed line of sight, and that meant being fired on from four directions at once while only being able to freeze them one at a time.

“You guys okay?” Kandros asked tersely over the comm.

“We’re good. Be right over.” She turned to take Ryssa by the shoulders. “We’re going to go over, now. Just ready your charge back here, and you’re golden. Even if a couple of the rounds get through, your barrier should absorb the impact. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Ryssa nodded, seeming to draw strength from Shepard’s own confidence. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

“Blargh,” Welod came over the comm. “Exit door is rigged with a real bastard of a lock. Not a problem. Be just a minute.”

Shepard nodded to Ryssa again. “I’ll go first, and hopefully they’ll stay targeted to me so you have a clear path. Ready?”

“Ready,” Ryssa nodded eagerly.

Shepard geared up her charge and blasted her way across the chasm. Her hoped-for outcome bore out, as the turrets turned to follow her motion as she came out of her charge. She threw herself up against the wall, only a couple silicone rounds crashing into her armor, and not even with enough direct force to register on her health display. She turned to watch Ryssa, who readied her charge with only a little hesitation.

“Uh, problem,” Welod said, concern in his voice. “This is odd…”

Shepard turned her head to look back at him just as the door mechanism detonated.

In a very _real_ explosion.

It wasn’t a terribly large area affected, not more than a grenade. But it sent Welod flying up through the air all the same, and just as quickly he hit the ground with a cartilaginous crunch. Green blood spattered over the walls and floor. Ryssa, who had only just come out of her charge in time to see the carnage, dropped to the ground and threw her hands over her mouth in horror. 

“Welod!” Barati screeched, running into a slide up next to him. She hefted him up into her arms, feeling over his armor, which was now studded with shrapnel. Shepard raced over, reaching them just as Kandros was pulling out her supply of actual medigel.

“We have to stop the bleeding,” she insisted, a forced calm covering the panic in her voice. There had been no way to see this coming, and they were all in shock.

“Ow,” Welod’s weak voice came over the comm.

“Just hang on, buddy,” Barati replied, her voice squeaking with tears. “I’ve got you.”

In less than a minute the exit door was opened and staff members were rushing in with a stretcher. Shepard surmised that there wasn’t much more she could do at this point, but she hung around anyway. Nihlus was likely going to have specific questions for her. She was no tech expert to weigh in her professional opinion, but she’d been here, witnessed it first hand. That was going to matter.

Shepard’s gut instinct was that there couldn’t have been a specific target. Not only would either Barati or Welod have been equally likely to be hacking the door, but it could have just as easily been Kandros, or even Shepard herself in a pinch. If she had to guess, this had been a distraction. Or a warning. And if someone was willing to go that far...

After the medics had carried Welod out and Barati had followed them, Kandros went to the corner where Ryssa was sitting, wiping away her tears. Kandros caressed Ryssa’s hands and face in an attempt to soothe her, speaking words of comfort in a subdued tone. Then after a moment they embraced, and Ryssa slipped out of the locker room in shaken silence.

“Kandros, you mind coming over here a minute?”

The turian woman complied, tilting her head as she approached. “What’s up?”

“I just need to know if there’s anything about this that seems strange to you.”

Kandros lifted a brow. “You mean, outside someone planting a live bomb in the war-game simulation?”

“Outside that, yes. Has anyone said anything or done anything you’re aware of that you think could be linked to this? Anything that in hindsight could be construed as a threat?”

Kandros frowned, the gears starting to turn. “Nothing that comes to mind. But…”

“But?”

“I don’t know. Ryssa was just acting a little...strange just now.”

Shepard shrugged. “Makes sense. Witnessing that must have really bothered her, especially if she’s never seen action before.”

“That too. Except, well. I don’t know if I can explain it. She didn’t really want to talk, which isn’t like her. Especially when she’s upset.”

Shepard’s mind started running hypotheses, one after the other. “I wonder if she knows something.”

Kandros shrugged. “I suppose anything’s possible. I can try asking her later, when it’s not so fresh. But this whole thing was plain senseless. I mean, what would even have been the point of someone doing this?”

“I don’t know,” Shepard admitted, staring at the twisted mess that had once been a door. “But I plan on finding out.”


	18. Chapter 18

Garrus wasn’t spending more time in his quarters than absolutely necessary. Ky didn’t seem to be hanging around the place much, either, which ironically negated Garrus’ primary motivation for staying away. Ky’s stark change in demeanor, in concert with the profoundly negative reaction Macen had had regarding him, disquieted Garrus. He didn’t know how to approach him, didn’t want to poke the proverbial wounded _nathak_ , so instead he was giving him an overabundance of space. But he still needed to sleep and wash up every now and again, both of which he tried to keep to a minimum. But this time, as he was coming out of the shower, his omnitool lit up with a flashing emergency announcement. Upon activating it, Nihlus’ voice echoed in the small space.

“As many of you are already aware, an incident has occurred during a recent training exercise. Rest assured that the injured candidate is in stable condition, and the matter is being thoroughly investigated. Our security efforts have been stepped up to prevent a similar…” he briefly faltered, “issue. All measures will be taken to avoid further unnecessary harm.

“Anyone unwilling to continue on in light of what has happened will of course be allowed to withdraw. However, I am beholden to remind you that unexpected incidents like this are quite often a fact of life for a Spectre. For this reason, those who withdraw now will be stricken from further Spectre consideration altogether.”

Garrus was surprised by the announcement, but less so by the warning that followed it. Turian culture overall was defined by its strict adherence to rules and protocols. Meaning that while it was a harsh measure to punish people for shying away from potential danger, he was ingrained to accept it, as would be most of his kind. At any rate, he couldn’t help but be curious about whatever had happened. He anticipated that profuse speculation about it would surely dominate most conversations in the cafeteria when he went for dinner.

When he stepped out, he saw that Kandros had returned sometime while he’d been in the restroom, and was standing mutely near the door. When she finally noticed him, her gaze lingered on him with an expression that was hard to read.

“You okay?” he carefully probed, his thoughts turning back to the announcement. She’d been down in the arena a few hours previously, if he recalled correctly.

“No,” Kandros replied. She didn’t clarify immediately, and Garrus waited silently. She walked over to the couch and sat, rubbing at her face like she was exhausted. “No, I don’t think I am. I just watched someone get blown up in front of me.”

“Wait. _What_?” Garrus’ nerves prickled fiercely. The announcement hadn’t given any sort of indication that things had been that serious. Quite the opposite. He slowly arranged himself opposite her on the couch, facing her and listening intently. 

It was like she hadn’t heard him. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen anything like that happen when I was in the service, you know? But that was battle. You expect people to get hurt, you ready yourself for it. This was different.”

After she’d stopped speaking for a moment, Garrus lowered his head respectfully. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, Vakarian,” she said, and meant it.

“What happened down there?” he asked, lifting his head again to meet her eyes. Kandros fidgeted and shook her head.

“I can’t talk about it. None of us can.”

Garrus’ brow plates lowered, and he skipped past the trite questions. “It wasn’t an accident at all, was it?”

Kandros looked down to the floor, opting not to respond, the only way she could answer him. Garrus’ mind raced. Another incident of sabotage. How many more had there been that he hadn’t heard about? And the Spectres were suppressing the truth. He didn’t like that implication at all, even if their reasons to do so were obvious to him.

“Kandros, you should know there’s more going on around here. A lot more. I don’t have a lot of answers yet, but I’ve been looking into it.”

She turned her head to look at him, assessing him. Her voice had gone quieter. “So is Shepard, I think. She was there today, too.”

His throat tightened, and he raised his head quickly again. His heart beat in his chest like a trapped animal trying to escape. _Oh no._

“Is she all right?”

“She’s fine,” Kandros assured him. His heightened concern for Shepard seemed to pull her attention away from the day’s misfortune for a minute. “Welod’s the one who got hurt. He took the most of...the accident.”

Welod. Garrus had only met him once, weeks ago, but he’d seemed like a decent enough sort. It was a bit shameful of him, but as bad as Garrus might feel for the salarian, his relief from the brief fear over Shepard’s wellbeing eclipsed it.

“Spirits. Why him?” he muttered, partly to Kandros but mostly thinking out loud. 

“I-” Kandros looked around a second as though afraid of being overheard. That was unlikely, as Garrus had been keeping up with regular sweeps of the quarters. “I think it was random. I don’t know. I just need a little time to process it, I think.”

“Yeah,” Garrus agreed. Most likely she’d already been interrogated by the administration, and she didn’t need any more of that. “That would probably be best. I can bring you back something to eat if you don’t want to go down tonight.”

“That’s really kind of you. Thanks,” Kandros replied. Then she tilted her head at him. “I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

Garrus wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but she excused herself to make use of the shower and he was left alone in the living room with his thoughts.

He was struck by a compelling urge to reach out to Shepard. _Check in with her, let her know you’re glad she’s safe._ But he didn’t expect it to be well received if he did. He didn’t know how many messages he’d already written her, deleting every last word without sending any. Some sharing far too much of his thought processes, all of them inadequate. Consequently he’d effectively gone radio silent. She couldn’t have been too impressed with him right now.

In a cruel twist of irony, the further out they got from their confrontation, and the more bleak his prospects were looking, the more the inevitability of losing this opportunity bothered him. As inept as he could be with women, he’d never been hung up on someone like this before. He hated it. Ignoring it wasn’t an option, and damn but he’d tried. On the other hand, he couldn’t even work up the courage to make his move. His cowardice was about to make this decision for him.

\---

The event of the week was taking place not in the arena, but in the decommissioned husk of an older model turian frigate. It had been stripped of most of its extraneous outer features and parked a ways away from the compound in an open field, and surrounded by auxiliary towers placed in various strategic locations. Power generators and environmental simulation structures, going by their appearance. The frigate was close enough to the kind he’d once served on that he figured the offhand mental map of the interior he had was pretty close. A welcome advantage.

He was directed to a boxy building to the aft, up against one side of what would be the cargo bay. Once inside, he realized the interior had been mocked up like the interior of a boarding shuttle. Prior advisement had been that they were to arrive in full environmental gear, helmets included. He had a good idea then of what they were going to be doing.

The other five who trickled in after him were all on edge to varying degrees, even the ones who were assuring the others that the alleged bomb must have been a fluke. He opted not to weigh in on whether that was the case; it wouldn’t do to demoralize the squad right before an exercise. 

Garrus vaguely supposed he recognized the asari who was with them, but honestly he couldn’t be sure. He definitely recognized the Academy’s only quarian, Janen. And Senairis nodded silently at him from the far wall of the ‘craft’. She didn’t look happy to see him. Check off one more person he’d disappointed. There was also a human man who was apparently an engineer and a salarian he thought might have been one of those he’d taken down in the free-for-all. The narrow-eyed glare he was giving Garrus through his visor made that plausible.

Spectre Bau eventually arrived and clapped his hands once, rubbing them together.

“All right, team, this will be simple enough. Your objective is to take the frigate from the other team, who is currently in total control of its systems. You’ll have approximately ten minutes to strategize and thirty minutes to complete your task. How you do so is entirely up to your discretion, but, and I cannot believe I have to clarify this, rigging the ship to blow is _not_ an approved solution. Presume the mission is to secure the ship as _intact_ as possible.”

Everyone nodded their assent, and he turned to Garrus.

“Vakarian, you’re the assigned fire leader for this exercise.”

Garrus’ brows lifted sharply and he blinked. Senairis had more practical leadership experience, as she’d been actively enlisted prior to attending the Academy, and ascended to a higher rank than he’d ever held. Sen didn’t visibly react. He held his tongue, other than to acknowledge the decision, but he didn’t feel good about it. Bau reached over and activated a panel, causing a small section of the side of the shuttle to slide open, revealing the immediate interior of the ship. It appeared to be meant to emulate them having cut their way through both inner and outer hulls, meaning in the equivalent real life situation the shuttle would have been vacuum-welded to the side of the ship on impact.

“You’ll be simulating a standard non-airlock boarding. I have a single plasma cutter here for your use once inside, and again, I am obliged to insist that you be _careful_ , and use it only as needed. Questions? No? All right then. I will be immediately on hand for the entire exercise. Best of luck.”

The rest of the crew turned to Garrus as Bau stepped out, and he cleared his throat. He looked over to Sen. Their mutual discomfort was going to have to be temporarily suspended.

“You probably have more experience in this than me,” he admitted as he pulled on his helmet. “I’m wide open to suggestions.”

Sen nodded. “Disabling the engine first would be a good idea, if we can. For the bridge assault, the only route to the bridge is going to be the main corridor, and they’ll have that heavily defended. My proposal is we use that torch and get someone into the hull, then come in through the side of the bridge while keeping the defending team distracted.”

Garrus nodded. “Perfect. We’ll split the team, three and three, and hit both ends at once. Sen you can take Janen and-?”

The human raised a hand when Garrus indicated him. “Quinn.”

“Right. The three of you will be taking the engine down out from under them, that should cut off their access to all but auxiliary systems. I’ll take Leyene and-?”

The salarian huffed indignantly. “Derith.”

“Derith. You think you can find your way around the hull if we can cut our way in?”

“Indubitably.”

“Perfect. Let’s go take this frigate.”

Things went surprisingly well for the first several minutes. They entered the ship without any initial resistance, meaning the other team had strategically selected their fortifications. His group and Sen’s split off as planned, hers headed down a deck to the engine and his moving along a side corridor that would take them past the medbay and up a staircase to the CIC. From there Derith would do his thing while Leyene held position defending him, and Garrus would take the brunt of the work in assaulting the main pathway to the bridge on his own. They agreed that once Sen’s group had the engine down, she’d regroup with him and bolster the attack.

“How you doing, Sen?” he called over the comm as they passed through the ship unopposed. A real frigate would have been staffed by an entire platoon; six would have been an impossibly light crew. He imagined firing his way through waves of invisible defenders.

“All clear this way. They must all be up- wait. Ah. They’re venting plasma. Cute. We’ll be a minute getting that shut down, first.”

“You guys have all the fun,” Leyene joked.

“Sounds good,” Garrus acknowledged. He steadily directed his team down the empty hallway and up the stairs. Just like his old post. 

Too easy.

“Garrus?” Sen’s voice came over the comm. “Quinn just informed me the doors have been flash welded behind us, and you guys have the torch. And Janene’s trying to get an auxiliary hatch open, but someone cranked the difficulty up on the safeguards. So. Might be longer than we thought to get back up to you.”

And there was the catch. But that was fine, they could keep pressing on and at least hold position until the other group could rendez-vous.

Then they made it up the narrow access ladder into the CIC. There The doors slid open without trouble, only for them to find the room was abandoned. Empty, except for one figure standing guard in front of the sealed bridge doors.

Shepard. He couldn’t see her face, of course, but the armor was unmistakable. His heart started doing the thing it did when he saw her, and he was half sure he broke into a cold sweat. There she was standing before him, taking on a stance like that of a huntress preparing to acquire her prey. Garrus shifted his right foot back and turned his body into a defensive posture in front of his team.

“Shepard,” he stated over his external comm. His tone pleaded subliminally, ‘Have mercy.’

“Vakarian,” she replied. Her smoky alto taunted, ‘No.’

Derith and Leyene looked to him, and he gestured at the nearby wall that had been determined to be the best entry point into the hull. “Stick to the plan. I’ve got this.”

“Nice to see you, Leyene,” Shepard called out in a conversational tone. “Hope you’re excited to join the party on the bridge. They’re all waiting for you.”

Spirits. She had predicted exactly what they were up to, and had planned her entire strategy around it. He had to take Shepard down and take her down fast, or his entry team was going to get destroyed. And he had to do it while his stupid, primitive subconscious was telling him he needed to mate with her, immediately.

His team was hesitating. 

“Go!” he ordered, right as she charged him. Not in a straight line either, but three short, angled bursts around the main console, crashing into him hard and sending both of them flying back in the direction of the door he’d come in through. Only, she ended up in a crouch and he was knocked prone.

The first thing she did was to kick his rifle away while he scrambled back to his feet. She lifted her shotgun up at him, but as he lunged toward her in desperation, she didn’t shoot. Instead, she tossed it aside and threw her fists up in her old boxing guard.

“You know, I remember you wanted witnesses the last time we did this.”

She weaved to one side, and he hit the brakes on his momentum, forcing himself into a spin to square up on her again. He could have gone for his rifle, but she’d almost certainly charge him again, or use it to beat him to the weapon. She was going to force this. Derith was busily cutting away, about halfway through making a meter-wide hole, but Leyene was watching. And she looked to find it funny.

He raised his own guard, an idea coming to him. “Shepard, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

“I’ll bet,” she retorted, and came at him. She was using her self-amplification, but at least she wasn’t intending to throw him about like a rag doll.

They were sparring once more. She was still just as good, but he had a clear memory of their past scuffles and was using that to his advantage, watching for her tells. When he chanced a look at Derith’s progress, the hole was complete and Leyene was slipping through behind him. Shepard took a heavy swing at his head that only barely missed.

“I mean it. It’s been eating at me.”

“Poor baby,” came her terse response as she threw a jab followed by a hook. He danced back, only avoiding her and not striking back. He chose to ignore the sleight the same way.

“I was avoiding you because-” she spun a back kick on him that he didn't have the room to dodge, as he felt his back hit the wall.

“Because you’re scared?” she finished with a derisive snarl, lunging at him with a hard right hook. Her frustration had made her careless, the way he’d planned.

He ducked and his arm snaked about her waist, pulling her in tight in a way nearly identical to how he’d done the last time they’d grappled. But this time, he was very conscious of what only his subconscious had held then. Instead of going to take her legs out from under her, he used his momentum to spin her around on his axis, shoving her up into the wall in his place. Pressing her there with all of his weight. His pulse thrumming deeply in his ears, like the engine would have been if it hadn't cut out sometime in the last few minutes. But, just this moment, that didn’t matter.

“Yes,” he panted at her. And it was true. He felt her form relax a little in his grip, and realized he was holding her in his arms again. It felt good. Better than last time, because this time he knew why, and he was starting to accept it. He reflexively dipped his head to hers, only remembering his helmet when it tapped against the surface of her own.

“I don’t like games,” she finally answered, and he felt a movement below her waist. He jerked, grabbing her forearm and shoving her pistol-wielding hand into the wall. Damn. Well, he oughtn’t have expected that she’d forgive him that quickly. Or at all.

“No games,” he promised. “I’m just...I’ve been figuring myself out.”

Shepard’s blue aura glowed brighter for a second, then faded. She shoved him off the old-fashioned way, which he gave her, stepping back with the push.

“You could have said something sooner,” she snapped. “Instead of waiting until we happened to meet up in the middle of an exercise. Which is asinine, by the way.”

“I mean, I wasn't _expecting_ to run into you here, but yeah, I get it.” he agreed gloomily. She shook her head.

“You pressed the matter, and then you ghosted me,” she thrust a finger at him. “That’s something human culture widely considers a dick move.”

He didn’t immediately have something to come back with. Partly because the translation hadn’t been perfect and he had to parse a strange double entendre that had come through. But he generally got her point. And she wasn't wrong.

“I understand,” he uttered. “I don’t deserve you giving me a chance after that. But, if there’s even the smallest possibility left, I-”

Then the door to the lower level opened up. Sen and her crew came rushing through, and everything happened rather quickly after that. Shepard reacted instantly, flashing about the room with blinding speed. Janen went down first, then Quinn with Janen’s rifle. Garrus had only just ducked behind the console and reached his own rifle by the time he saw them both, armor lit up in the golden ‘death’ signal. Sen was giving Shepard a harder fight, until the rest of Shepard’s team emerged from the bridge, having finished dealing with Derith and Leyene. Sen was down before he’d brought his rifle to bear, and once he did he had six barrels pointing back his way.

Shepard’s team had wiped nearly all of his out without a single casualty of their own. He sighed. This was his own fault. Only one thing left to do: see how many of them he could take with him as he went down fighting.

The answer was three.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to include a small TW for this one just in case. This chapter ends with a scene that may be triggering for some survivors of abuse. It will be marked for those who wish to skip it.

The shuttle ride was mildly turbulent in the wind. White noise filled the cabin, both from the ambient engine droning and from the steady patter of rain outside. It was early summer for this region of Cyone, which meant precipitation like this would soon be more frequent.

The passengers, meanwhile, were all completely silent.

Shepard was lounging back in her seat, staring mostly at the ceiling and sometimes out the window at her left. There was nothing much to see besides the smears of green and grey through the wet lines left by droplets and the faint condensation inside. It reminded her of the long aircar rides back on Mindoir between the city and back home on the farm. She was tempted to use her finger to draw something in the faint layer of fog on the glass, but she reminded herself she wasn’t twelve anymore. That, and her gauntlets probably didn’t lend themselves well to even casual art.

The cabin was filled with faces that were now all familiar for their own reasons. Kyeros was directly across from her, and hadn’t looked up from the ground since he’d secured himself into his seat. To his immediate left was a woman named Senairis, with whom she’d scrapped in her hand-to-hand eval and lost, then again only a few days ago in an exercise, and won. Further to Sen’s left was Garrus, who’d been avoiding eye contact with Shepard the whole way. She knew that because she’d been keeping track of him via her peripheral vision. The last two on their side were Teg (which she’d since learned was short for Tegeres) and Nyreen Kandros.

Shepard’s own seat neighbor was Janen, who’d been on at least two teams that had gone up against her. Beyond the quarian was Welod, to Shepard’s surprise. He was quieter than before, but retained a solid sense of resolve about himself. Past him was Leyene, and then, to Shepard’s never ending loathing, Nika. She hadn’t seen the monster in weeks now, and her life had been better for it. Thankfully, however, the woman had been just as quiet as everyone else the whole ride, and positioned so she was as far out of Shepard’s sight as possible.

The shuttle touched down around twenty minutes after takeoff, outside what could only be described as a sprawling jungle. The landing area was a clearing that was surrounded by swaths of trees, vinces, and underbrush. The rain was coming down on them in heavy sheets, now, soaking into the soil and softening it into thick mud that sucked at the soles of her boots. Everyone pulled on their helmets before venturing out into the torrent. Shepard had to wonder if the weather was happenstance, or if the Spectres had checked the local forecasts to schedule her group on as nasty a day as possible. 

Avitus Rix, as well as Nihlus Kryik himself, had ridden along with them, and the group naturally gravitated to them in a half circle as they waited for their instructions.

“We have a fitting challenge for your final week. Today will be all about getting yourselves to the endpoint of the course. The borders of this area have been marked, but nothing else. You’ll also notice that we’ve given you no nav data for the course; this is by design. There will be subtle clues and checkpoint stations along your way. Otherwise you are entirely on your own. You’ll each have eight hours to make your way to the endpoint. It will be dark in,” he checked his omnitool, “six.”

“There are no specific rules for how you must complete the course. The order in which you arrive at your destination will be documented. Any who do not finish in time will not be passing on to the next phase. You are hereby allowed to delay or hinder your fellow candidates’ progress, but not to seriously harm or incapacitate them. Like every other exercise here, there will be zero tolerance for unseemly behavior.”

_Unless your name is Nika Temaru,_ Shepard thought bitterly to herself.

“Now You’ll all be entering one at a time, in a staggered fashion. Best of luck to all of you.”

Shepard couldn’t help but smile a little to herself. She’d had to complete an exercise very similar to this, but with limited air and on an asteroid. A little mud and rain was nothing. This was going to be a cakewalk.

Nihlus sent a nod over to Avitus, who returned it and pulled up a display on his omnitool.

“Janen’Zhil, you’re up first.”

The quarian clipped a nod and took off into the underbrush without hesitation. The rest of them were left milling around, waiting the several minutes until the next name would be called. Teg had been called next, followed by Welod. The way the little man moved, one would have never guessed he’d taken essentially a point blank grenade to the chest the prior week. Tough bastard, and not just for a salarian.

Shepard had found herself some momentary shelter under a few trees that deflected at least most of the rain. She could tell Garrus was pacing several meters to the left and behind her, working up the nerve to approach her. Which she was fairly skeptical he was going to manage. After several minutes Senairis’ name was called. Shepard couldn’t help but notice a particular sharpness in Avitus’ voice when he called her up. Sen didn’t acknowledge him as she loped out into the jungle. Shepard had been distracted enough by the scene that when Garrus finally addressed her from no more than a meter away, she was taken by mild surprise. She turned to face him, and he rubbed at the back of his helmet.

“Good luck out there today,” he offered almost timidly.

_Sure, but instead of luck I think I’ll stick with my signature ass-kickery,_ she thought.

“Thanks,” she said. “You too.”

Garrus took on that disposition that told her he had all kinds of things he wanted to say, but either couldn’t or chose not to. Shepard realized in her peripheral that Nika was staring at them, her body turned slightly away, holding stock still in the rain. She didn’t look away when Shepard noticed her, either. They stared one another down for a moment, then Avitus called Nika’s name. The other woman lingered a second more before casually strolling her way into the course. For a second, Shepard was back in the arena their first week, holding back a raging Nika who was out for blood. A certain turian’s blood. It had seemed nothing more than a hyperbolic overreaction then. Not so much, now.

“Be careful out there,” Shepard said to him. He watched Nika disappear then looked back at her.

“You too,” he replied. 

There was only silence then until Shepard’s name was called, and they exchanged one final glance before she plowed forward into the underbrush.

\---

The jungle canopy kept most of the rain at bay, but also had the undesirable effect of casting dappled shadows all over everything. This in addition to the thick foliage, wet and clingy soil, as well as the misty haze that limited her vision all made navigation a tricky feat. But Shepard remained undaunted. She pushed her way through, stopping every couple hundred meters to perform a new scan and read her surroundings. 

Three hours in, Shepard finally stumbled across her first checkpoint station. It was little more than a plain, upended crate with a handful of consumables and a coded set of numbers burned into one side. Shepard only took that of the supplies she’d need in the short term, water and an energy bar for refueling her biotics. She could have raided the whole thing or stashed them elsewhere, but that was too overtly malicious for her. Plugging the code numbers into her omnitool and fiddling with them a minute, it was soon clear that it was a navigational heading for a number of degrees northwest. A crunch of leaves sent her rapidly turning in that direction with her shotgun brought to bear, and Leyene raised her hands defensively.

“Truce?” she inquired carefully. Shepard lowered her gun and nodded.

“You’re on your own figuring out this code, though,” Shepard informed her. Leyene only shrugged.

“Fine with me. Much obliged. The other two I ran into already both tried to have it out, but I ducked out. I’d rather just get this done.”

“Right there with you,” Shepard agreed. 

Leyene raised a water bottle in a ‘cheers’ gesture and started hydrating herself. Shepard wandered off in a slightly different direction than she meant to, only getting back on course when she was out of sight of Leyene. Choosing not to actively hinder her didn’t mean she needed to be overly helpful.

Eventually she began to catch on to a pattern in the stones beneath the brush. Most of the rocks were normal deposits, probably from seasonal flooding, but there were occasional flat paving stones as well. As she moved along she realized it was an old, degraded road of some kind, and it tracked with the navigational heading. She laughed aloud to herself. A cakewalk.

She’d been following the loose path for another hour or so when her scans finally picked something up just in the distance. A small prefab building, maybe another thirty five or so minutes ahead if she really moved. It might be another checkpoint but some small ember of hope flickered to life that she was already this close to the finish in only half the allotted time. She stepped forward into a broad clearing and stopped. The ground in the direction she was headed careened down, a steep drop into more jungle a few dozen meters below. If there had been stairs once, they were long gone. Okay, not a problem, she could get down there with relative ease. Then there was a rustling behind her, and the mechanical whirring noise of omniblade activation. Shepard turned to face her potential foe, raising her shotgun. The rounds were nonlethal, but hopefully still a deterrent.

“Hey there, Shepard,” Ky said with a dark, low smile, dual omniblades dropping out to full extension. “I just wanna talk.”

Shepard kept her shotgun up, but prepped a biotic charge just in case. The nape of her neck exploded into prickled flesh. The man appeared to be intending to take the permission to waylay his competitors rather seriously. His posture was not the relaxed ease she was used to seeing in him, but tense, leaned forward, predatorial. The omniblades looked too solid to be the holographic sims they’d been using. She had a bad feeling about this.

“About what?” she demanded. 

“Well, we could start with the nasty little surprise someone left me in my baby here a few weeks back,” he jerked a thumb at the folded rifle on his back. Shepard frowned deeply in confusion.

“I don’t know why you think I’d know anything about that.”

“Oh, I am just _sure_ you don’t,” he rolled his head and shoulders, then began to stalk in a slow circle around her position. “Just like you don’t know anything about my scores tanking for no reason, or my room getting bugged.”

“And why the hell would I do any of that?” Shepard’s face contorted into perplexed umbrage at his wild accusations. She couldn’t begin to fathom how he’d reached his conclusions, but he was solidly, dangerously, convinced.

“That’s a good question. See, I’ve been doing my due diligence about it. Gathering intel was kinda my thing from my old job, you know? Imagine my surprise when a whole lot of the evidence started pointing back at _you_.”

Shepard’s heart raced. He couldn’t be serious. She’d have burst out laughing if he hadn’t looked ready to pounce any moment.

“Tell me. Were you really fired for insubordination, or was it incompetence? Because you’re way off base right now.”

Ky actually laughed at her barb, but it was an uncomfortable noise. She used her index finger to tap her shotgun’s command to switch to live fire as a chill creeped up her back.

“I wasn’t fired, I _quit_ ,” he spat through his teeth, then relaxed into a smile again. “But this makes sense, see. Follow me: A human, one highly motivated to make Spectre. Wants to get her people fast tracked for a Council seat. Lots of pressure, everyone back home is watching. And yeah, she’s good enough to get here on her own merits. But, as good as she is, she’s just one of many who are just as good, and plenty of them are better. Eventually, she realizes she’s behind enough in standing that she gets nervous. So, _maybe_ , she starts taking matters into her own hands. Improves her odds, just a little, by damaging those of her betters.”

He continued to circle her as he spoke, and she continued turning to keep him locked in her sights as he ran his mouth. She was tempted to pull the trigger on him once, just to give him a decisive ‘oh, you can fuck all the way off’ response to his baseless suppositions. Tech armor was resilient enough it would hold against a single shot without much trouble. Instead, she slowly reached with the thumb that was wrapped around the shotgun’s stock and pressed something on her omnitool.

“So, if I granted your premise, the question is why not just turn me in?”

“Go running to the Spectres like a little pup running to mom? Nah,” he half-growled casually. “I’m more of a hands-on guy, see? Be a lot more satisfying to take you down myself. Plus, probably look pretty good for me when the Spectres make their selections that I rooted out the saboteur.”

“You’re officially crazy, Kyeros,” Shepard barked at him. “And I don’t have time for it.”

“You’re gonna make time,” he snarled back at her, stopping mid-stride and squaring off. “You could prove me wrong right now. I just need to see your omnitool.”

“Not. Happening,” she retorted. “If you wanna do this, fine, but we do it in the presence of Spectres. You can make an ass out of yourself all you want, but there will be witnesses.”

“Not my style,” he started to move towards her, and she jerked her gun.

“You know what? Your biggest problem is you’re giving yourself way too much credit. Even if I _was_ the kind of person to go and sabotage someone for my own gain, I can tell you I sure as hell wouldn’t trouble myself with _you_.”

His face exploded into rage and he charged her. It was the technological equivalent to her biotics, with those booster rockets at his calves. Not as fast as a biotic charge, but functionally equivalent in that they beat out an enemy’s reaction time. But she’d been expecting his reaction; it was inevitable, she’d just managed to provoke him into doing it when she was ready for it. She fired at him, point blank range.

Ky’s tech armor held against the shot without much trouble. But the blast severely weakened it, and he wouldn’t be able to detonate it as she charged him back. The two of them met in a violent explosion, the rest of his tech armor breaking down from the impact. She had maybe a couple of minutes before it was charged enough for him to regenerate it, meaning she had about that long to bring him down. His elbow lashed out, slamming her shotgun out of her hands and sending it flipping through the air and into the brush.

Shepard’s biotics flared again, pumping up her mass and physics threshold, and they went to war.

The two of them had gone rounds before. He’d been one of five who’d been able to take her down in their initial sparring evaluations, though she hadn’t been at full capacity then. They’d faced off again in the arena, and though she’d been closer to her maximum, he’d been fresh as well and it had come to a near stalemate. This time she was putting everything she had into her amplifying field, but Ky was also moving faster, hitting harder. It may have been misplaced, but his fury was real and ran deep, giving him a decided edge. He had been slighted, not by her, but he intended with everything he had to punish her for it.

Shepard pushed herself to her limits, blocking his rapid, violent strikes and taking her shots where she could. Nothing she landed on him seemed to phase him. His heavy, black armor was top of the line, and wasn’t about to let him notice even her sledgehammer-force punches and kicks. It didn't help her that he was hands down the most massive turian at the Academy, maybe that she'd ever seen in person. She couldn’t let up her countering, though, or she’d be giving him an opening to visit utter devastation on her.

It seemed like much longer, but likely had been maybe a few minutes, when Shepard started to feel the wear. She couldn’t keep this up forever, and Ky wasn’t showing the least sign of fatigue yet. She had to do something, take a potential risk. She had one ability socked away that, if she could pull it off, would buy her the time she needed. She just had to get him a little nearer to the cliff.

Shepard dodged back to one side as she dropped her amplification, falling into a back roll and jamming her hand into the mud. She twisted and flung the heavy clump, hitting him dead center on his visor, then jumping back up to her feet to run. Her boots struggled to gain purchase in the water-saturated soil, but with an assist from the leverage of grabbing a nearby root, she plunged ahead. Ky’s incensed roar behind her spurred her forward faster. Her gamble hadn’t slowed him down much, if at all. She had to get at least a few meters between them to have enough time to pull this off, in addition to bringing them closer to the ledge. And Ky already held the naturally superior speed of his race, even without his fiery determination to take her out. She was going to have to charge, and hope she had enough juice afterwards.

But as she charged, Ky must have picked up on what she was about to do. Because he activated his boosters at the same time, and was just about on her heels again as she came out of her charge. She turned, calling up a biotic ability she typically kept held back. The damage it would deal was high enough that she had been hesitant to deploy it on other candidates, not needing to be kicked out for reckless endangerment. But right about now, the time was at hand that it was needed. Getting him close to the ledge first would also lend the attack a good chance of sending him down into the foliage below, buying her time. 

But it was too late. He’d grabbed her, and was hoisting her off the ground. Her biotic focus fizzled as she tried to switch back to her amplification. He spun her through the air like she weighed nothing, bringing her down hard enough on her back to knock the wind out of her. She’d seen him bodyslam Nika this way once before, and it hadn't looked nearly as hard as this had felt. Her head burst into pain and flecks of light exploded through her vision as her diaphragm fought to pull in air. She clung desperately to consciousness, wondering how badly her implant had just been rattled.

\---((TW))---

Ky climbed over top of her before she could react beyond helplessly flailing. He pressed a hand down firmly over the front of her neck. Her hands flew up instinctively to try and pull him off, but his grip was iron. And between a dearth of air in her lungs and the sudden short supply of blood making it to her brain, she couldn’t force her mind to so much as focus on any one of the biotic attacks in her catalogue, let alone attempt it.

“Shhh,” he was saying through her fading hearing. It was like he was speaking to her through water. “See that black at the edges of your vision? Just let that happen. This’ll all be over before you know it.”

\---((TW End))---

The grey sky above faded into darkness, and then there was nothing.


	20. Chapter 20

Garrus wasn’t a fan of the rain, but at least it wasn’t cold. But warmth plus moisture equalled mist and visor condensation, which were irritations all their own. The mud wasn’t fun to trek through, either, but he’d take it over the rain any day. Every few minutes he was having to shake his head to clear his helmet of the wet. It probably looked pretty funny from an outside perspective.

Garrus’ had been the second to last name called, with only Kandros left to go after him. Ky had gone just before him, which in itself was uneventful. But what had troubled Garrus was that Ky had been staring resolutely at the ground for the entire leadup, right until Shepard’s name had been called. As she’d vanished into the jungle, Garrus had watched Ky’s intense focus following after her, lingering on where she’d last been visible. That had set him well and fully on edge, even though he couldn’t conceive of a reason for Ky to zero in on her like that.

He’d all but forgotten about it as he’d forged his way through the underbrush. Palaven had a few jungled regions, but he’d never been to one. Most Palaveni probably hadn’t; there was always something that needed to be done. Sightseeing was a pointless luxury for the bored or unproductive. But he was finding he liked the scenery, the earthy smells, and the ambience of the calls of the local fauna. Without the water pouring relentlessly from the sky (and the leaves blocked most of that), this might have even been a somewhat enjoyable experience. He may have to come back here when the weather was clear, if he ended up having the time.

Garrus had successfully plotted the direction he needed to go within the first hour, while barely fending off a scuffle with Welod. Not because the little man had been looking for a fight, just jumpy and assuming the worst when Garrus had unintentionally snuck up on him. Welod had been rather more determined than most to finish the course, in spite of his recent misfortune or maybe partly because of it. They parted ways amicably. 

He knew he was nearing the endpoint when he came upon a cliff. Thanks to his visor, he could vaguely see the lit outline of a squat, cubed building out among the sprawling flora below. Probably only about eight or nine kilometers out. He was in the middle of planning his climb down when his omnitool lit up with a message notification. He pulled up the display, finding a few minutes long audio clip in his inbox. It was from Shepard.

He frowned and played it, but it struck him immediately that it wasn’t her speaking directly to him. It sounded like she was talking to someone else. And it wasn’t a pleasant conversation.

“-why not just turn me in?” Shepard’s tight voice asked someone. Then Ky’s voice replied, hard and fierce. Garrus worked on following the conversation and retroactively applying context, but it took a couple of exchanges for the puzzle to begin to make sense. Ky was accusing her of something, demanding to see her omnitool. She was refusing him. And then, she taunted him. And just as the sound of combat kicked in, the message cut out.

Garrus’ heart skipped once, his blood running cold. Shepard was in danger, and she’d reached out to him personally. She wouldn’t have sent this if she’d been sure she could handle an out of control Ky on her own. 

He desperately scrambled to pull the location data out of her message. She was only a couple of kilometers away. Even through the brushy terrain, he could reach her in minutes if he hurried.

Garrus ran like he hadn’t run in years. Fear was an excellent motivator, especially when it came down to a potential life or death situation. He was almost tripped up a few times by roots and vines, but each time he righted himself again and pressed on harder. Faster. He had to get to her. It couldn’t be too late. Not again.

Not like with Castis.

When the empty blackness of Ky’s armor came into view, he skidded to a halt a few meters away, just outside the clearing. Ky was crouched over Shepard’s limp form, hand pressed up under the bottom lip of her helmet as he used his other hand to hack her omnitool. She wasn’t moving. 

No. _No no no no NO_.

Garrus flicked his rifle’s settings over to live rounds and put the stock hard to his shoulder, slinking closer until he was in the clearing with them. Ky’s temple was dead center in his sights, the easiest shot he could possibly take. Most other firearms wouldn’t likely punch through all of his defensive layers in one round, but a high-caliber sniper rifle likely could.

_Kill him_ , something in him demanded.

He could, in all honesty. Maybe even _should_ , in the manner one dispatched a diseased animal. No rational person would blame him. And that was how Spectres handled things, wasn’t it? They did whatever it took to get the job done, and didn’t flinch away from putting an enemy down if need be.

_Do this right,_ Castis’ voice countered. Or maybe agreed, it was hard for Garrus to tell right then with his blood running hot. Shooting Ky legitimately felt like the right call, but in taking even a millisecond’s reflection, he knew he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure of the fallout if he did this. Killing a man when there were still potentially other options could be excusable, or it could be a life-altering mistake. And though it looked grim, he didn’t know Shepard’s actual status, not yet. Spirit of Castis: 1, Garrus: 0.

“Get off her,” Garrus ordered, his gravelly voice shaking, panting. “ _Now_.”

“Relax, Palaven,” Ky responded with a threatening satire of his former casual voice, not even sounding surprised that Garrus was behind him. “I’m not killing your girlfriend. She’s just taking a little nap. I can keep this up another two minutes or so, and she’ll be fine. Maybe three if I had to push it.”

“I said _now_ , Kyeros!” Garrus bellowed again. “You’re not getting a warning shot. And you know I won’t miss.”

Ky peered up at him with a bland attitude not unlike boredom. His voice went solidly cool. “So do it. But I can make sure to take her with me if you do.”

He had to be bluffing. If Garrus pulled the trigger now, Ky would be dead before he could make so much as a move to hurt her. Probably. Garrus supposed he couldn’t totally eliminate the possibility that the bastard was telling the truth. Blackwatch were another breed, a coldly efficient breed. He’d been an idiot to ever let down his guard around him, to ever suppose Ky wasn’t the bogeyman his type was made out to be.

“What the hell are you even doing?” he demanded through a ragged throat.

“Cloning her omnitool. What’s it look like? Almost done, too. Then you can have your little pet human back.” 

Offense raged in him at the way Ky referred to her. But then Ky’s hand began to lift gradually off her neck, and his omnitool chimed that it was finished with its task. He stood slowly, turning his head to look sidelong at Garrus.

“Now get _back_ ,” Garrus hissed, his finger itching to slide into the trigger guard. Ky raised his hands not in surrender, but acquiescence, and took a few long steps backwards, stopping a few meters from Shepard before starting to go through the data he’d acquired. Garrus quickly closed in on her, kneeling down and activating a medscan. It reported that she was still breathing, heart rate slower than normal but steady, and he exhaled in what felt like the first time in minutes.

“When did she rope you in?” Ky asked, flipping through screens and programs. “I knew you could be pretty oblivious sometimes, but I didn’t take you for a full-on chump.”

“You’re insane,” Garrus snarled at him. Shepard started coughing and made a soft groan of complaint. Though she couldn’t feel it, his hand cradled the side of her helmet. He’d just gotten a lot closer to losing her than he’d have liked, and she wasn’t even properly his. He just...wanted her to be. He was past denying that now. His voice softened to a whisper that she couldn’t likely hear, but he said it anyway. “I’m here.”

Ky cursed and shut down the display of what he’d cloned from Shepard’s omnitool.

“Not finding what you were looking for?” Garrus spat. “What a surprise.”

“Unless she had _you_ doing the dirty work for her,” Ky suggested, “Ex C-Sec, you probably had most of the programs you’d have needed before even coming here. We should take a quick look.”

Garrus noticed Ky’s arm slowly going for the rifle on his back. Garrus jerked his barrel up at Ky’s face in response.

“Just try it.”

Garrus’ attention was drawn to Shepard starting to cough again and rolling to her side, clawing at him, trying to get a grip. He slid one of his hands into hers, the best way he knew to reassure her as she regained consciousness that he wasn’t Ky.

“Yes, something nefarious is going on,” Garrus lashed out. “But how can you think I’d have told you about the door and the bug if I was involved? That I’d have told you I thought it was a biotic who did it, if Shepard was the culprit?”

“You would if you were pulling a feint-” Ky started to say, then stopped. There was a moment of quiet, until a heavy bolt of thunder cracked through the sky and the rain continued to sheet over them. Garrus looked back down to Shepard as she stirred again.

“Spirits,” he heard Ky saying as the gears turned in his head. “Oh, hell. That’s the angle, isn’t it? Well, someone’s more clever than they look...”

Garrus looked up again to ask him what the hell he was on about now, but the man had turned away and was scanning the forest below, ignoring them. Shepard’s hand came up and clamped down on Garrus’ upper arm, and she was hauling herself up using him as leverage. Their soaked armor pads slipped against one another in the rain, but with his help she was able to get into a sitting position. With her this close to him he could hear her breathing now through her helmet, heavy and deep. He steeled himself, for her to hold onto for support.

“You okay?” he asked, deliberately keeping the genuine worry out of his voice and maintaining an all-business tone. It was an effort. She only nodded a little, jerkily, turning her head in Ky’s direction in such a way that caused his mind to conjure up the image of a vengeful glare on her face. She then slid away from him, her hands sinking into the brush nearby, sweeping for something.

Ky was muttering something unintelligible to himself in a thick growl, then turned, pulling his rifle off his back. Garrus sprang back to his feet at the ready, training his barrel on Ky who drew back on him in a flat standoff. The other man shook his head.

“I got somewhere else to be. We can talk after I get this sorted out.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Garrus stated matter-of-factly. “You don’t get to do what you did and just walk away.”

“If you try and stop me, I’m gonna have to go through you,” Ky warned. “Being the best sniper isn’t going to help you at this range, I’ll tell you that right now. You can dole it out, but I’mma wager you can’t take it.”

“One way to find out,” Garrus replied, while knowing with a steep dread that Ky was right. They both knew Ky was the superior combatant in hand-to-hand, by a significant margin. And he had the advantage in close quarters shooting, as well. Not to mention his armor far outmatched Garrus’ old C-Sec getup. There were situations where Garrus would have had the upper hand, but this one was at the far opposite end of that spectrum. He mentally prepared himself to go all out, regardless. Soon enough Shepard would be back in the game, and together they could-

Ky lunged for him and Garrus’s trigger finger clamped down on reflex. He had exactly one chance to make it count, and Ky’s forehead was in his sights. No time left to think.

Then, a blur of white and silver slammed hard and low into Ky from the man’s right, knocking him off his course. Garrus’ shot passed harmlessly through the empty air left in his wake, not far behind Ky’s new assailant. Avitus Rix deftly rolled up into position on a knee, rifle pointed straight at where Ky was quickly finding his feet again. From the same direction Avitus had come, Nihlus was leaping from the side of a silently hovering shuttle, clad in his signature black and red armor. Garrus had seen both of them on numerous occasions in the past several weeks, but this was the first time they’d been fully decked out for battle. His pessimistic anxiety rapidly pivoted into absolute confidence.

Ky spun on the pair of Spectres, keeping his own rifle’s focus levelled on Rix.

“Don’t even think about it, Quillan,” Avitus growled. “Stand down, before you make this worse for yourself.”

“Oh, of course _you_ had to show up,” he snarled at Rix. “Your bed-boy sic you on me? And I see you brought Kryik with you, ‘cause you know you can’t take me on by your lonesome.”

“I don’t need more reasons to kill you,” Rix replied with an unnerving calm.

“Hold, Avitus,” Kryik warned.

Nihlus had his pistol trained on Ky. He was as galactically infamous for his sharpshooting prowess as Garrus was becoming locally well-known for his improbable sniping. Garrus joined the Spectres in surrounding the man, whose back was to a literal ledge. Shepard was still blindly sweeping the overgrowth for what he assumed was her shotgun, cursing raspily through an angry larynx. Once she found it, she climbed to her feet and hefted it to a shoulder, completing their semicircle. Four against one, and two of them seasoned, hardened Spectres. Even a Blackwatch agent couldn’t have liked those odds.

“There are two ways this ends,” Nihlus informed him. “And neither will be good for you, but in one of them you’re still breathing. Make your choice.”

Garrus was genuinely surprised that they were giving him a chance at all. He’d have expected them to act more ruthlessly. Especially Nihlus, just based on his reputation. Maybe the reality was more complex than he’d given it credit.

“You wanna act like I’m the bad guy here?” Ky sneered. “I can see what’s going on. I’ve been working on sorting out the mess the lot of you have been creating here, and you’re just mad I’m about to expose you.”

“I see you’re delusional as ever,” Avitus rumbled. “You should know, you were never moving on to Stage Two. And you’re demonstrating loud and clear exactly why. You’d degrade the whole of the Spectre organization by your mere presence.”

“Fuck you in particular, Rix,” Ky railed. “Barro already took everything else from me, now you think you’re gonna just come in to finish the job? No. I’m gonna do this, and the Council themselves are going to know everything that’s been going on here and who’s behind it. And I don’t think they’re going to be too happy with what they hear. Whether I make Spectre or not isn’t going to be up to _you_ , that’s for damn sure.”

“This is your final warning,” Nihlus stated flatly. “You can cooperate with us, and give us everything you’ve uncovered. You won’t be allowed back to the Academy, but you can mitigate the damage you’ve already caused. Relinquish your weapon, Quillan. Now.”

There was a brief silence, then Ky shrugged. He looked right at Garrus and grinned the way he used to, then turned it on Nihlus.

“Have it your way.”

Kyeros flung his rifle down at the ground roughly between Avitus and Garrus, and the world briefly exploded. Rather, the self-destruct mechanism rigged into the rifle had detonated with the force of a proximity mine. 

Garrus had reflexively turned and lifted one arm to shield himself from the impact, but Shepard had leapt out in front of him, protecting both of them from the blast under the electric blue of a biotic shield. When the mud and air pressure had settled there was a small crater littered with twisted metal and plastic detritus. Nihlus had lunged to cover in the foliage. And Ky was gone, doubtlessly straight down the cliff under the cover of his effective distraction. For a second Garrus was sent back to Ky’s threat about taking Shepard with him. He shuddered now that he'd seen an example of just how true the threat had been.

Avitus had thrown up a single-person emergency tech shield right as Ky had launched his last-ditch maneuver. It had absorbed the entire blow, shattering away just as Garrus’s eyes turned to him.

“Coward!” Avitus roared. Then, like lightning, the Spectre was back on his feet and rushing for the ledge, flying over it without hesitating. He disappeared into the jungle below, in hot pursuit of his quarry.

Shepard flared into a brilliant blue light beside Garrus. Taking her cue, he moved to rush forward with her, ready and eager to pursue the traitor. But Nihlus stepped out ahead of them and raised a hand.

“No,” he insisted. “Finish the course. We’ll handle this.”

“We can help,” Shepard protested.

“Appreciated, but unnecessary,” Nihlus promised. “Neither of you will pass to the next stage if you don’t complete the exercise. I can’t bend the rules for you.”

“This has to count as extenuating circumstances," Garrus responded, aching to be part of this fight. Or at least to enjoy the schadenfreude of witnessing Ky being taken down, firsthand.

“Unfortunately not,” Nihlus assured him with a deep growl out at the botanic sprawl below. “Wait for us at the endpoint.”

And with that, Nihlus turned and leapt over the ledge, rapidly scaling his way down. 

Neither Garrus nor Shepard moved for an indeterminate time, the both of them still soaking in everything that had just taken place. She eventually ambled over to the ledge, peering out over the expanse. Garrus joined her, looking down at the overgrowth through his scope. He saw nothing, no movement to even tell him which direction they’d gone.

“I should have just killed him,” Garrus lamented bitterly. He meant it, even in the light of the Spectres showing a surprising degree of restraint. “When I got here, and saw what he-”

“You came when you were needed,” Shepard interrupted, not looking at him. “That’s what matters.”

“Of course,” he replied. It wasn’t as though he’d done anything for her he wouldn’t have done for most people. It was just what one _did_ , especially a former C-Sec officer. But ultimately, it hadn’t just been his sense of common decency. It had been _her_. There had been terror, a panicked anticipation of how much her loss would have affected him. He hadn’t been wanting to accept that he was feeling some way about her, but it was undeniable now.

“Let’s head down,” she said, and he agreed.


	21. Chapter 21

Shepard was furious.

At Kyeros for his unwarranted attack on her, sure. But also at herself for not having had better foresight to deal with it. She’d led a team and held out against an onslaught of Batarians on Elysium, but one rogue agent had almost gotten the best of her. He did have years of experience and training on her, but ultimately she must have grown complacent after weeks without any real danger to be on guard for. Even after the bombing incident that should have communicated loud and clear that things were not what they’d seemed. It hadn’t, and now she was rattled. The fact remained that it didn’t look good in regards to the Spectre she was trying to become. She couldn’t see it not mattering as to whether she’d be deemed fit.

At least no one had been there to witness her failure. Except Garrus.

Garrus.

As much as she despised that she’d needed an assist, she’d been overwhelmed by relief when she’d found him there kneeling by her as she regained consciousness. At the same time, he was inevitably going to be questioned over his involvement in what had happened. She wanted to believe he’d try to paint the situation in the best light possible for her, but he was also a turian. He was almost certainly going to be honest with them about what he’d come upon. He wouldn’t be able to help it. Or, maybe she was making an unfair generalization, just like she’d called Williams out for doing more than once. It occurred to her that if anyone here at the Academy would be willing to stick his neck out for her, it would almost certainly be him.

“I’m really glad you’re all right,” Garrus broke the silence. He’d remained stalwartly by her side as they slogged through the mire of the jungle floor. She almost smiled, and it almost made her feel a little better.

“You might have helped a little with that,” she replied with a sardonic half-smile and tone to match. It had been serendipity that she’d linked their omnitools. There had been no one else close enough that she could have hailed. But she supposed that even if there had, Garrus might have been her first choice regardless.

“I guess I can take some of the credit,” Garrus acknowledged with a similar wry manner. It faded quickly. “But for a moment there...it was tense.”

“Yeah,” Shepard breathed a bitter laugh. Their destination was close, and she was starting to see dark, angular edges through the trees in the distance. “That’s an understatement.”

“What I mean...” Garrus stammered. “What I _want_ to say is…”

Shepard sighed and nudged into him with her shoulder. Then she slid her hand into his, a reflection of the comfort he’d given her as she’d started coming to in a blind panic. He abandoned the rest of whatever he’d been gearing up to tell her. His muscles tensed, his neck going rigid and his eyes focusing hard toward their destination. He was trying, and failing badly, to act casual. 

Shepard had picked up on how words tended to be hard for Garrus. She figured the best thing to do for them both was to utilize an auxiliary method for their communication going forward. She leaned into him, his proximity alone the most comforting thing she could ask for in the moment. That, and the day’s warmth was steadily fading along with the light, and though their body warmth wouldn’t transmit to one another through their armor, there was still a kind of placebo effect at work, and the chill became a little less noticeable. Finally after a minute, Garrus gradually relaxed and leaned back against her, squeezing her hand just a touch tighter. The rain was starting to let up a bit in the approaching twilight.

They mutually pulled apart when they were within eyesight of the endpoint. Now that it was in front of them, Shepard realized the building was some kind of old ruin. It was a cube of stone bearing the wear of ancient construction. It wasn’t more than three meters tall and only nine or ten meters squared. It was covered in lichen and lined with discolored, twisting streaks where vines had been climbing, only relatively recently cleared away. They circled around it to the north, finding a single open archway that functioned as a door. The mud of the surrounding landscape gave way to flat stone tiles functioning as the building’s flooring, identical to those that had helped guide Shepard’s way. Back a while before everything had gone sideways. That was seeming a lot longer ago than an hour.

Upon entering, six faces swiveled back to meet Shepard’s. Shepard’s gut reaction was that she was glad not to see Nika among them, and she wondered if it was too much to hope for that the wretched woman wouldn’t make it back in time and therefore be disqualified. There were smiles and smirks from the others, and Welod raised a cup of something that must have been what was simmering over the camp stove in the corner. As Shepard pulled off her helmet she was aware that the room’s air was filled with the scent of honey and vanilla. It made her mouth water after such an intense experience, and she went to collect herself some. The cupboard beneath the stove probably held a cache of the Academy’s seeming endless supply of protein bars, too. Garrus found himself a wall to lean against.

“What kept you?” Welod asked them jovially. “Most of us have already been here for at least an hour.”

“You probably don’t want to know,” Leyene chuckled slyly to him, sipping at her own mug. She was wrapped up in a terry cloth sheet, sitting cross-legged on a cot. There were eight other cots lining the interior walls, with three others besides Leyene having taken up space on one. There was a rectangular metal table in the middle, where many of the others had laid their things while they waited and Welod was leaning on one side. Besides the camp stove there were a few dim electric lights hanging anachronistically from the ruin’s ceiling.

“Out there, and in this weather?” Teg chortled, picking up Leyene’s joke and running with it. “That’s dedication.”

Welod blinked, glancing between Teg and Leyene with a confused frown. “I don’t get it.”

“As much as I _wish_ that’s what we’d been doing, we actually-” Garrus started, then immediately choked on the rest of his sentence. He was hit with not only Sen’s wide-eyed expression and a light smirk from Kandros, but a set of sharply raised brows and a pointed stare from Shepard. Teg guffawed. “Kee’lah...” Janen’s synthesized voice muttered, and Welod in his ongoing confusion mumbled, “Seriously. What?”

Ah, well. Garrus had come to her aid not long ago, she could return the favor and save him from himself.

“We were attacked,” Shepard clarified. “Kyeros Quillan flipped out and came after me.”

There was a stark silence. Shepard let it hang there a moment before delving into more detail about everything that had happened involving her and Garrus, starting with the events that had caused Ky’s burgeoning suspicion of them. Garrus added in the details of his own relevant experiences, some of which Shepard was only just hearing about now. From there she explained Ky’s ambush and abridged the events leading to Garrus’ arrival, finishing up with the arrival of the Spectre cavalry.

She had kept it light on the details of exactly how Ky had overpowered her, but thankfully no one seemed to care enough to probe. They were all much more horrified and/or fascinated by Ky’s sudden about-face and the blossoming mystery of what was going on at the Academy at large. Janen raised a hand.

“Can I just say, I absolutely buy Kyeros going off the rails?” Janen asked. “I would have put my life savings on it.”

A few of the others nodded or shrugged their agreement, Kandros most emphatically. Sen shifted uncomfortably and Garrus looked away, as though ashamed.

“I knew he was a jerk but this…no, I didn’t see this coming,” Sen shook her head. 

“Maybe all those years in Blackwatch left him a little too paranoid for his own good,” Teg offered in explanation. “Those guys don’t fuck around, they’re brutal. It has to get to you eventually.”

“Blackwatch booted him. Or he quit before they had the chance to, one or the other,” Shepard said, earning a look of shock from Garrus. She’d forgotten that the topic hadn’t come up between them. “He mentioned it once while he was drunk, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out there’s a lot more to the story.”

“Wait,” Welod said to Shepard, then flicking a look Kandros’ way. “Do you think that maybe the, uh... _thing_ that happened to me, might be connected somehow? To everything that’s been going on?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Shepard replied, remembering the sight of the salarian hitting the ground in a green splatter. Following the interrogations they’d all been subjected to afterward, her team had been given strict orders to keep it quiet. The Spectres had wanted to avoid starting a panic. Shepard had been around the block enough to know that there was more to it than that. They wouldn’t want knowledge of the incident making it out to the public where it would turn into a media circus. And Ky had mentioned something similar about the Council, proposing that they wouldn’t be too impressed with the handling of the situation, either.

“As long as we’re putting everything out there...I found a bug in my room, too,” Janen said, chagrined. “Maerun is my mentor, and I went to him about it. He wasn't concerned, just thanked me and told me not to worry about it. Or tell anyone.”

There was another round of silence as they all digested this information.

“Do you think _they_ planted the devices?” Kandros asked quietly. “To spy on us? Maybe this whole thing is...maybe they’re investigating more than our capabilities. They want to know our temperaments, our character flaws. Our weaknesses.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking, too,” Shepard confirmed, tip-toeing around mentioning her special assignment from Nihlus. Speaking of whom, she wasn’t the only one who was going to have to answer hard questions the next time they spoke. “But I hadn’t figured they were monitoring us _that_ invasively.”

“Oh, I definitely believe it,” Welod said. “In fact, I wouldn’t put it past Spectre Bau to have been the one to implement it himself. Total STG move. They’re pushing us through in such a short time, they’d want to know as much about each of us as possible. Know what to expect.”

“Yeah, but, why the...explosion?” Kandros asked. “That couldn’t have just been some secret test. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“And Ky’s gun really was sabotaged,” Garrus added. “I was there when it happened. There would have been no reason for the Spectres to do _that_.”

“It _was_ what sent Ky into his spiral,” Sen pointed out, her voice distant. “What led to him snapping the way he did. It may have put him under psychological pressure that he couldn’t handle. It could be he just took it farther than they anticipated.”

“Possible. But it’s kind of a reach,” Shepard muttered, rubbing at her neck. Ky had been truly convinced that whatever evidence he’d dug up had pointed him to her, personally. What had that been, and where had it come from?

“What matters is that it’s all out in the open now,” Garrus said. “With all of us working on this, we’re bound to figure out whatever’s going on.”

Welod jumped up excitedly from where he’d been sitting on the table, his mug sloshing liquid to the floor. “What if that _is_ the test? What if they’re planting these clues, faking this mystery, to see which candidates parse it out? Then those of us who do get fast tracked to being selected. It’s brilliant!”

“They blew you up!” Kandros shouted, then drew back again when everyone stared. “I mean. Hypothetically. I’m with you on everything else, Welod, right up to the point people are actually getting hurt. You, and now Shepard, and who knows who else. If we were instructed to keep quiet, so would have anyone else.”

Teg shrugged. “I don’t know how much Spectres would actually care about a few minor casualties. A lot of them are willing to kill without a second thought if they think it’s necessary. Causing a few survivable injuries, that’s no big deal, comparatively.”

“That wasn’t how it went down with Kyeros,” Garrus pointed out, grumbling. “Kryik and Rix could have put him down at any time, but instead they gave him chance after chance to surrender.”

“I think,” Shepard hesitated, speaking as the idea formulated in her head. “I think they may have realized he knew something that they didn’t. And they wanted to know what it was.”

A noisy yawn drew their collective attention to the door. Nika was there with a placid, dreamy smile on her face as she completed a wide, serene stretch. She glanced around the room, her eyes meeting each of them, even Shepard.

“Well. That was fun,” she hummed sleepily.

_Damn the luck,_ Shepard thought to herself. 

Nika looked as content as Shepard had ever seen her. The woman had removed her helmet just outside the building, and her hair was already a frizzy, clinging mess. She wordlessly glided over to a cot, pulling a nutrient bar out of her pocket and shoved it into her face, chasing it with a few chugs from a water bottle. She laid on her back, then rolled on her side facing away from everyone. As far as Shepard could tell, she was already well on her way to passing out. 

“Maybe…” Garrus said after a minute or so of silence. His voice was quieter now that Nika had joined them. “Maybe they _-_ ”

A sound from outside caught Shepard’s attention.

“Quiet,” she snapped, fixing her focus intently on the jungle outside. The others’ attention followed.

They all fell silent, and as Shepard focused she could hear the gradually increasing _fwish-fwish-fwish_ whisper of someone trudging through the foliage beyond. She skirted around the center table and moved to stand in the doorway, aware in the back of her mind of some of the others forming up behind her.

In the dark, at first she could only see the haze of red lights and the glint of the ruin’s dim lighting reflecting off a moving surface. But as her eyes adjusted she could see a large, darkly looming figure moving steadily closer. For a moment she tensed, dread forming in her gut. Then she realized it wasn’t only one figure; it was one person carrying another. Nihlus came into view plodding forward, an unmoving Avitus slumped over his shoulder in a firefighter carry. She started to take a few steps forward, then was pushed aside as someone else rushed past her.

“Avitus!” Senairis cried out shrilly, hurriedly closing the gap between herself and Nihlus. “What happened to him?”

Garrus quickly followed behind her, both he and Sen cooperating to take over Nihlus’ burden, hefting Avitus between them.

“I found him like this,” Nihlus replied, exhausted, as he readily transferred the unconscious Spectre to them. “I haven’t been able to wake him.”

Shepard turned and pressed her way through the gathering onlookers back into the ruin. She thrust her arms out and inelegantly swept everything off onto the floor with a mighty clamor. As Sen and Garrus brought Avitus in, they laid him down across the surface and Nihlus immediately set in getting the man’s helmet off. Senairis exhaled sharply with a choked noise at seeing him. 

Avitus’ eyes were half-closed and rolled back, blood seeping from his nose and mouth. Shepard could also see that his armor bore a handful of bullet wounds, rimmed with blue, all flesh wounds at worst. They weren’t the cause of his unconsciousness or the bleeding from his head. It looked more like the result of, and this was conjecture, severe blunt force trauma. A dull throb in the back of her head reminded her of just what Ky was capable of in that arena. 

It wasn’t long before the blinding spotlight and wooshing air of a shuttle landing resounded from outside. Nihlus urged everyone else back away from the door to let the medical staff in. But before they emerged, a black-armored figure entered in a rush. For half a second, Shepard’s reflexes sent a signal down her arm to go for her pistol. The man’s armor was like a starless void, save for the symbol at his upper arm that announced him as Blackwatch. Identical to Ky’s armor, though noticeably smaller. As he tore his helmet off, his light-brown colored plating and off-white facial markings confirmed that this was not, in fact, Kyeros.

“Avi!” he shouted in anguish, and rushed for Avitus. “Spirits, Avi, no!”

The man leaned desperately over Rix, taking the fallen Spectre’s face in his hands, thumbs swiping away at the dried blood, checking for breathing and a pulse. Nihlus pressed a firm hand against his shoulder, sending a sidelong glance at the medics entering from behind him.

“He’s alive, Macen,” Nihlus assured him. The surplus of those in the room wisely started to migrate toward the door, save for Sen and Garrus. Shepard glanced after them, wondering whether she should go, too. But no one said anything to her. Macen’s head whipped towards Nihlus.

“Quillan did this?” he growled deep in his chest, more a statement than a question.

“I don’t know,” Nihlus replied regretfully. “Whatever happened, it was over by the time I arrived.”

“You should have been with him!” Macen spat in accusation, and though Nihlus didn’t deny the charge, Shepard winced. Damn it. She and Garrus had been the ones to hold Nihlus up. If they hadn't...

The medics moved around Nihlus, who stepped back to let them get to work. They laid out a stretcher and set up some basic first aid equipment and monitoring machines. Macen eventually stood, stepping slowly back while not moving his focus off Avitus. Then, like a man possessed, he drifted towards the door and replaced his helmet. He drew the rifle off his back and turned his head in Nihlus’ direction.

“I’m going to find Quillan,” he stated to everyone and no one, as though he were merely the instrument for giving reality a voice. “And do the galaxy a favor.”

Senairis drew her own rifle and stepped forward to him, hefting her helmet.

“I’m coming with you,” she insisted, but he quickly grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her back. It took some effort when she resisted him.

“No, Sen. You don’t….” his gaze swept over to Garrus and Shepard, and his voice dropped to almost a whisper, “Someone has to stay with him. For me. Please.”

Her face lowered to the ground and she gave a small, reluctant nod. Macen vanished out the door without another word. The medics had already loaded up their patient and were carrying him back out to the shuttle, with Sen trailing them out into the deepening night. The rest of the group had returned to collect their things, and Nihlus informed them that they would be hitching a ride on the next shuttle, which would arrive in short order. Shepard scowled over to where Nika was still dead asleep on her cot, wholly undisturbed by the commotion. 

Shepard found herself gravitating to where Garrus was standing, looking numb and lost. She reached up, setting a hand on his pauldron.

“Garrus?”

Garrus broke from his trance, looking at her and heaving a deep breath. “Just hate feeling like we could have done more.”

“I hear that.”

“And I wish I could be there when Macen finds that bastard.”

“That, too.”


	22. Chapter 22

It was just before midnight when Garrus and Kandros made the silent, solemn march back to their quarters. Kandros went straight for her bed, curling up and passing out within minutes. Garrus wasn’t so lucky. He stared up into the ceiling, then out the window overlooking the dimly-lit amphitheater. When the sight of Ky’s empty bunk became too unavoidable in his peripheral, he rolled to face the wall at his left. It was often like this when a case was bothering him. Except now it wasn’t a case, and he hadn’t been in C-Sec for a few months. There wasn’t much he could do about the situation tonight anyway, but he couldn’t make his insomniatic brain believe it.

Garrus ended up out on the couch at some point, doing anything on his omnitool that he found sufficiently distracting from his thoughts, but not so interesting it would stave off the sleep that he knew had to come for him eventually. He’d have taken something pharmaceutical to help, but those always did more than their job and he didn’t feel like sleeping in until almost noon. So the firing algorithm game it was. Every few weeks he’d find a way to beat his old score, but most often it was just a handy time sink. He checked the clock after a while, and saw that another hour of sleep had evaded him. So much for that. He wandered the room, used the restroom, got himself something to eat, and made his way back to the couch while wondering whether he should fire up the game again or just lie there until boredom knocked him out.

Garrus eventually found himself outside walking the winding footpaths, until he was in the Academy’s main building. Or it looked like the main building, it could have also been the Presidium. The area outside the C-Sec Academy was startlingly similar in appearance, but even more so in the dark. He didn’t know why it was so dark; he was used to the lights being kept on all the time. Not that he’d ever been in here this late, but he’d always seen them from the training gym when he spent time there late at night or early in the morning.

It was eerily quiet, not a soul around. He’d never seen the building like this; there was always at least _someone_ here, even if just a security guard or janitorial staff. His footsteps echoed through the grand, empty space, making him feel small and magnifying how alone he was. The stars glittered in the windows, shining through a violet-hued nebula. That was strange. He didn’t remember the sky looking like-

His omnitool lit up. He blinked. The call was coming from Sergeant Vakarian.

Castis.

Dad.

His gut reaction was to decline the call. Just a few days ago the old man had given Garrus the biggest slap in the face possible and then stuck him on form-filing duty. Even threatened to lock him up personally if he had to, because the unbending old man couldn’t see past his own opinion of how the galaxy should work. Garrus wasn’t inclined to speak to Castis more than he had to for the foreseeable future. His finger hovered over the display for several seconds, poised over the ‘Decline’ option, before he relented and accepted it.

“Yeah.”

There was heavy, wet breathing from the other end. Garrus felt his stomach lurch, whatever it was he’d eaten last threatening to make a violent return. Icy cold settled into his guts. There was a din of pouring rain in the background of the call. 

“Dad,” Garrus stated firmly. He wanted to hang on to the comfort of his anger, but fear was threatening to take its place.

Coughing. Unintelligible words. Then- “...it’s bad…need to tell you….”

“Dad, do you need backup?” he demanded.

“Called them. On their way. Stay there...” A shaky gasp. Maybe a choked sob. He’d never heard his father make either such noise, so it could have been either and he wouldn’t have a way to know for sure. “...stay safe.”

Garrus was on full alert. He’d never been great at following his father’s instructions, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. Not when there was so much left to resolve between them. 

“I’ve got your location and I’m coming. I’ll be there in five.”

“ _No_...just listen...tell your mother...and Sol…I’m sorry.”

Garrus ran like he hadn’t run in years. He couldn’t be too late. 

Not again.

“...be the man I see in you...Garrus...”

The corridors only grew darker as he plunged forward into the bowels of the station, until he couldn’t see anything anymore. But he knew these corridors like he knew his own face. If he just pressed a little harder, moved a little faster, maybe this time-

And woke to the sound of Kandros cose to his face, loudy saying, “ _Garrus_.” For the he-didn’t-know-what’th time.

He rolled jerkily to one side and onto an elbow, his heart pounding and a cold dread prickling all over him. His instinct was to run, to fight, to do _something_. But there was nothing to be done. He wasn’t on the Presidium anymore. Castis wasn’t bleeding out alone in a dark corridor anymore. Garrus was on the couch in his quarters, putting his hand in the wet spot where he’d been drooling in his sleep. The sun was just starting to shine in through the bedroom windows behind him, lighting up the front wall. 

“Sorry. I have to get the door,” she said once she saw his searching eyes. “Thought you’d want to know before I let people in while you’re still asleep.”

He completed his return to present day over the next several seconds. He hoisted himself up into a sitting position and rubbed at his face.

“Yeah. Uh. Thanks. Wait, you’re letting who in?”

“Academy staff is here to clean and reassign rooms. They sent out a message about an hour ago with the Stage Two graduate lists. Everyone who didn’t make it has until first thing tomorrow morning to have their stuff together and depart on the shuttles.” Her mandibles flared in a little smile. “You should take a look at the list.”

“That was fast,” he muttered aloud to himself. They’d only completed the final exercise the previous night, and the rankings were already in? That sure didn’t make everything they’d been dealing with for the past few weeks seem any less suspicious.

The door chime sounded, presumably not for the first time, and Kandros rose to answer it. Garrus would have been far more excited about seeing what the message had to say, but besides not yet having shaken the residual hangover of his nightmare, his head was starting to throb painfully. He checked the time. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than four hours, going by when he’d last looked. Great start to the day.

Garrus pulled up the message just as a handful of Academy staff entered and headed straight for the bedroom. They paid him no mind, being already engrossed in the vigorous conversation they’d been having amongst themselves. He vaguely caught one of them mentioning Taetrus. But soon he needed to know, right _now_ , if he’d made it. He scanned the lead-in message and decided there was nothing all that important therein, then tapped the link for the lists. The only one he’d received was the one exclusively for turian candidates. Meaning he wasn’t going to know whether Shepard had progressed until the next time they spoke. He resolved that he’d make sure that would be soon. He sucked in a breath and opened the list.

Garrus had been anticipating having to scroll a bit before he found his name, but there it was, third from the top. The topmost name was one he didn’t recognize, then there was Senairis, then himself. There was an addendum attached to his listing as well, showing that he hadn’t just been selected to progress. _Three_ entire Spectres had each placed him somewhere in their top ten. Rix, Kryik, and Bau. Taking a further look, it became clear that only the other two who’d ranked above him could say the same. Sen was also among the picks of Kryik and Bau, but Rix’s name was swapped out for another turian Spectre. He and she were the only turians who’d made Bau’s list, and something about that made him feel a little proud. But then he remembered where Sen was right at the moment, and his excitement dimmed somewhat.

He was brought back to reality by a loud clanging that turned his dull headache into a spike that went through both temples. He winced painfully and turned his head towards the bedroom where the clamor was coming from. Kandros was bringing out her things, only a couple of duffels and her gun case. She was wearing her armor. Garrus startled and staggered to his feet. She hadn’t seemed upset, which he imagined she’d be if she’d been passed over.

“Kandros, you’re not leaving-? You were selected too, right?”

“Of course I was,” she chuckled. “Not by three different Spectres like _some_ people, but yes. I told you, they’re reassigning rooms. Only one hundred and sixty seven of us left, so there’s enough space for us all to have our rooms and leave more than a hundred empty. If we were going to be living here longer, I’d petition for them to knock out some of these walls for more space.”

He blinked. “That’s...not as many as I’d thought there would be.”

“Yeah, surprised me, too. Well, we’ll still be room neighbors, so, don’t be a stranger.” She held up a forearm to him, and slowly he crossed it with his, trying not to think of Ky.

Behind her, the staff members were now bringing out hunks of disassembled cots and cabinets. Past them he could see the cabinet that housed his things had been moved against the corner wall, the bunk that had rested atop it removed. Kandros followed the staff out, ostensibly to get herself set up in her new residence. He steeled himself and walked back into the now emptier bedroom.

Ky’s things had been removed from his cabinet and set against the back wall, between the two windows that had originally divided the spaces between their three bunks. The man’s armor wasn’t there, of course, and his rifle case sat empty. If and when the staff returned, he made a note to find out what the plan was for his things. Garrus was anxious to see them gone. Apparently there would be plenty of storage space for them in the unlikely event that Ky was taken alive.

At the wall where Kandros’ bunk had been, an actual, full-size bed had been folded out of the wall. The crisp, unused sheets beckoned to him, promising the pleasure of finding the rest of the sleep he’d been deprived of. But he couldn’t, and not just because there was a non-zero chance he’d find himself back in the C-Sec Academy getting his father’s final call again. He had things he needed to do. First and foremost, he wanted to check in with Shepard. Sure, he could always ask her for an update through messages, but he needed to do this face to face. If by some unlikely chance she had been passed over, he wanted to at least be there for her. Maybe have a conversation about how they might still move forward, if that would even be possible. It wasn’t an outcome he was enjoying thinking about.

He grabbed some water and analgesics and stepped out into the hall. Sleep was an inevitable phenomena of life, and it could wait. He couldn’t say the same about Shepard.

\---------------

Shepard had been close to surpassing her personal push-up record when her omnitool chimed with a message notification. She pumped out a final few reps with strain, then heaved herself into a sitting position and hastily pulled up the display. She ignored the contents of the message itself and went straight for the list of who had made it to the second stage. Out of around fifty that had started, there were an entire five humans who would be moving on to Stage Two.

She exhaled sharply when she saw her name, standing out at the very top of the list. But her brief exultation was instantly soured when her eyes found Nika’s right below it. The other humans to have passed were Quinn, Barati, and Alenko, in that order. She tapped on the attached note by her own name to view the finer details of her ranking. Though any number of Spectres could have selected her for their top ten candidates, only one had. Nihlus.

She stared at that a moment. An unexpected blaze of angry disappointment lit up inside her. It felt like injustice. Shepard was aware that she wasn’t entitled to anyone’s favor, but the numbers and data regarding her achievements were indisputable. She’d made S-Tier in more of her evaluations than she hadn’t, and if she were given a chance to re-do her biotics evaluation she was certain she would bump that one up, too. She’d been either a victor or the one leading her team to that victory in four out of the six exercises she’d participated in, and one of those losses had been on a technicality. But no other Spectre outside Nihlus had deemed her worthy of consideration. 

Make no mistake, one nomination was enough. She was still moving forward. But a backup or two wouldn’t have hurt. Especially while she was in doubt of whether Nihlus would ultimately uphold his stance on her.

The fact that galled Shepard the most was that she was among the most powerful biotics at the Academy, even taking asari into account, and Vasir had still deliberately snubbed her. Not just that, she’d chosen Nika over her. Of _all_ people. Shepard was fine with the knowledge that her mentor disliked her personally; it wasn’t a popularity contest. But she had expected better of a Spectre than to make a call based on opinions over facts. And maybe that was Shepard’s bad, having idealistically assumed that a given Spectre wouldn’t let their own personal biases factor in even when there was so much at stake.

Shepard’s real issue, though, was doubt. Her odds of ascending to Spectre weren’t as secure as she’d been assuming not too long ago. When she’d first come here, she’d been doing it out of duty for the Alliance. For Earth. But things had changed. She wanted this. This was what she was supposed to do. If she didn’t accomplish what she’d come here for, the Alliance would eventually forget her failure. She never would.

She heard Alenko call out to her from the kitchenette. He came striding in shortly thereafter later with a toothy grin.

“Can you believe it?” he asked. “I sure as hell can’t. I mean, not about you, I saw that coming a million clicks away. But I was completely expecting to be cut. I guess I impressed Maerun more than I thought.”

“Congrats, Alenko,” Shepard put on a smile. “Seems like the universe is telling you that you need to give yourself more credit.” 

She crossed the room to him, holding out a hand. They shook, but he also pulled her into a half-hug. She acquiesced. Shepard was genuinely happy for him, and that he could be so unreservedly excited for his achievement. But she wasn’t keen on tainting his jubilation with her own issues.

“I still think you're the one to bet on for our first human Spectre,” he replied as they pulled apart. “But I’m going to be floating on air for a while, anyway.”

“You earned it,” Shepard said.

“We should all do something to commemorate this, the five of us together,” Alenko replied, his eyes lighting up at the idea. Then recoiling at Shepard’s flat glare. “Or, four. Right. Those of us in the Alliance.”

“I’ll think about it,” Shepard replied noncommittally while maintaining her mask of a smile, wandering to the kitchenette. 

Alenko frowned. “Something bothering you?”

Shepard almost laughed, forcing it out as half a sigh instead. “...A lot is, actually. But I’ve got it.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But I just want to make it known for the record, I’m a good listener.”

He didn’t know about what had gone down yesterday, she reminded herself. No one outside of the eight who had been party to the events did, and that was already more than were supposed to. They’d been instructed not to talk about it, just like with the explosion. It made sense that the administration didn’t want to cause a panic, but they were also preventing people from knowing they may be potentially at risk if the culprit decided to strike again.

She could let Alenko in on it, if she really wanted. That seal had already been broken last night during the group discussion at the end of the jungle course. What were they going to do, if they ever even found out? The results today had the unintended side effect of giving her the impression she didn’t have that much to lose anymore. It _would_ be extremely helpful to have another ally on her side that she didn’t have any reservations about. Whatever else one could say about him, Alenko was about as principled and straightforward as you got.

So, on his request, she filled him in as she got a pot of coffee going. The whole exposition took a while when laying it all out, and Alenko had a lot of questions. Some she could answer, many she either judicially chose not to or didn’t have an answer for. In the end, he didn’t seem as shocked by the revelations as she’d anticipated.

“I definitely had the impression that something funny was going on,” Alenko conceded. “Plenty of other people I’ve talked to around do, too. Most of us just haven’t had the firsthand experience with it that you’ve had.”

“I figured,” Shepard sighed, leaning into a counter and waiting for the coffee maker to finish. “And the most frustrating thing right now is not knowing exactly what the Spectres are responsible for versus what they aren’t.”

“I can see that,” Alenko mused, drawing some mugs out of a cabinet and heading to the fridge for the creamer. “Have you asked any of them, outright?”

“I talked to Nihlus about some of it, yeah, and I didn’t get much out of him. The rest, what happened yesterday, no. Not yet. But you can bet that I’m going to.”

“What about your mentor?” Alenko held out his mug as she poured him up. She snorted a laugh.

“Vasir? She’s the _last_ person I’d expect to be straight with me. About anything.”

“I know she’s a hardass, but she might surprise you.”

It was all Shepard could do to not roll her eyes. “I seriously doubt that. She didn’t even put me in her finals, when she damn well should have.”

“Well, playing devil’s advocate, we don’t actually know all of what their selection process entails,” Alenko shrugged, keeping his tone neutral. “Especially if there are unknown factors at work, like you said.”

“Yeah, I took that into account,” Shepard insisted, then pulled up her display and opened the list to make a point. “I mean, unless you’re trying to suggest that _Nika Temaru_ is mentally better suited than me, somehow. Because that’s who Vasir nominated. And look at this. All five of us. None of us got more than one recommendation each, and no Spectre selected more than one human. You can’t say there’s not a reason for that.”

“You’re not starting to see things Williams’ way, are you?” Alenko asked, not hiding the concern in his expression.

“I’m not saying it’s run of the mill racism, or none of us would be moving on. Even Vasir nominated a human, even if the worst of us. Helping humanity get a representative on the Council, that’s still pretty damn controversial. Maybe none of them are in a hurry to pull the trigger on that one. But, what I’m really saying here is that I’m concerned there’s a whole lot of politics and subterfuge going on, and that’s what’s driving all of this. All of them having their own motivations. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s couple dozen competing games of 3-D chess going on as we speak.”

“Well, when you think about it, they _are_ all Spectres. It’s kind of their thing to be playing the game on multiple levels.”

“The intrigue and mind games I can deal with. They want the best of the best. They want to mitigate their risks. Fine. But if I’m right, a lot of them may be putting their own personal goals ahead of the Academy’s mission. And if everything else is getting out of hand right now, it’s because their ability to respond to a potential interloper has been eroded by all of the interplay.”

Shepard rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Thirty Spectres, and they didn’t seem to have any better a handle on what was going on than anyone else. “You know, when we came here we were sold the idea that we were all setting the other stuff aside, coming together for the good of the galaxy. It shouldn’t _be_ like this.”

Alenko fell quiet, taking in what she’d said as they both mulled over their coffee.

“Okay. Your hypothesis checks out. I’m right there with you. But. Assuming everything _is_ going that way, what are we going to do about it?”

“There aren’t many options that I can see,” she conceded with a sigh. Then she half-smiled sardonically. “Outside of becoming a Spectre myself and finding a way to beat them at their own game.”

Alenko raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “You’re _Commander Shepard_. Why would you have to be a Spectre to do that? Especially if the Spectres themselves are barely holding things together. Why not take matters into your own hands?”

Shepard scowled. “That was exactly what Kyeros did. See how well that turned out.”

“Just because he got the execution horribly wrong,” Alenko suggested carefully, “doesn’t mean he didn’t have at least the right _idea_. If there was anyone I’d trust to do this right, it would be you.”

Shepard stared at him unhappily, chewing on her bottom lip. “Well. Damned if you don’t have a point.”

The door alert chimed. A group of staff had arrived to initiate the change of living arrangements. Alenko was slated to stay in the current room, while Shepard was being moved across the hall. She helped the staff with her things, mostly because she wasn’t in a good frame of mind to be trusting anyone else with them. She was hefting her gear out of the old cabinet when Alenko called to her. 

“Shepard. You have a visitor.”

She stepped out and Garrus was there in the living room, turning his attention away from Alenko just as he caught sight of her. His eyes scanned her, taking in what she was doing.

“Shepard,” he greeted her, casting a sidelong glance at Alenko again. “I was, um. I thought I’d stop by. I assumed you’d passed to Stage Two, but I wanted to make sure.”

“Barely,” Shepard snarked. “But yeah. I’m sure you did with flying colors.”

“Yeah,” he affirmed, barely able to hide the smile that came from evidently not quite interpreting her sardonic tone correctly. “That’s...great.”

“Are you planning on coming to the party?” Alenko asked Garrus. Shepard blinked at him.

“Party?” Garrus asked in mild confusion, voicing her own thoughts.

“It was in the message, though you had to scroll down a little for it. They’re holding a big celebration downtown tomorrow night for those of us who passed. Like the mixer, but fancy.”

“Oh, I didn’t…” Garrus said, turning his eyes on Shepard again. “Are you going?”

She smiled, but the expression was mostly for herself. “Only if you are.”

“It’s a date, then,” Garrus beamed, then quickly dropped the expression. “You know. Uh. Figuratively.”

“If you say so,” Shepard replied softly to him as she passed, nudging him. She shuffled past him, more than ready to have a whole space to herself.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. This is not a drill. This chapter is extra long and the last third contains gratuitous amounts of  
> S  
> M  
> U  
> T  
> !
> 
> If that's not your thing, you can skip everything after the second page break and not miss much plot-wise. For everyone else, please enjoy!

Garrus studied himself in the mirror, adjusting his tunic what little it could be adjusted. He’d showered and exfoliated thoroughly, and even taken the time to touch up his colony markings. But it hadn’t made much difference that he could see. Turians weren’t much for vanity, as a rule. 

In the vast majority of turian cultures, even a party or a fancy gala wasn’t cause to dress or accessorize any differently than one would any other day. Clothing was functional, and that was that. Almost every other species, however, made what was practically an art form out of embellishing their appearances for special occasions. There were all of these unspoken rules, protocols, and traditions, all of which escaped him on the best day. 

Certainly there were exceptions among turians, but there was a reason they were exceptions. Those who troubled themselves with any sort of fashion tended to either be exceedingly wealthy or spent a significant amount of time in the company of other species. Socially, they were often looked upon as gaudy or attention seeking. But this wasn’t a turian colony, or an exclusively turian function. Tonight was one of those special occasions wherein most of those attending would be making such spectacles of themselves. Not him. He didn’t suppose he would stand out too badly. Not with over a hundred other turians besides himself, most of them instilled with the same social norms. But that wasn’t his problem. 

Garrus remembered the first time he’d seen Shepard in one of those garments called a ‘dress’. Back then they’d still been at odds, and it had been only strange and a little fascinating to see how startling it had transformed her overall appearance. Now, he was seeing the whole phenomenon in a different light. He found himself wishing he had something to wear that would do something to him like the dress had done with her. He wanted to impress her, make her take notice and appreciate him in a new light. To show her that he considered her worth the effort.

But besides not knowing the first thing about how exactly to go about selecting proper formal wear, he didn’t have time. The party was in only a couple of hours, and he had an important stop to make in the meantime.

Senairis’s name was among those on the list of candidates moving on to Stage Two, but she’d let him know she wouldn’t be attending the party. That didn’t surprise him. Two days out from their debacle in the jungle, Avitus still hadn’t regained consciousness and Macen still hadn’t returned with Ky’s head on a bayonet. That meant Sen would continue to keep at her watch in the local Cyone hospital where Spectre Rix was being treated.

When he arrived, Sen was out in the lobby caffeinating. Garrus’ nose wrinkled at the way the background scent of disinfectant ruined the otherwise pleasant smell that coffee should have. He wasn’t a fan of hospitals, not after a nasty gunfight he’d once partaken in while chasing down a particularly callous perp who didn’t mind using the convalescent as cover. But he needed to check in with a friend, and so he’d tolerate it.

Sen caught sight of him and then briefly looked down, before steeling herself and approaching him. They exchanged the usual surface greetings and platitudes.

“How is he?” Garrus asked.

“They’re not sure, yet,” she replied. “Or, they are and they’re not telling me. Being that he’s a Spectre, and everything.”

“What about you? You holding up okay?”

Sen hugged herself and looked away. “Well enough, I guess. It’s...I don’t know. For some reason it’s just...really hard.”

Garrus swallowed. This part he understood, and hoped he wasn’t overstepping. “Probably because even if you haven’t always gotten along, he’s still your family.”

He’d figured it out back in the old jungle ruin, in the moments after she’d cried out and run for Avitus. He wasn’t her mentor, and they hadn’t interacted much at all that he’d seen. In fact, Rix tended to be harsher with her than other candidates when they had. Then he’d recalled the conversation they’d had about her relationship with her older brother. And she was one of the only candidates who hadn’t been open with her surname. It clicked, then. She was Senairis Rix, the younger half-sister of Garrus’ mentor. The two of them looked just different enough that it wasn’t obvious, though in retrospect their startlingly similar eyes should have been a giveaway.

Garrus had come to see her because he had a good idea of what she was going through, better than most. The conflicting feelings of long-term resentment and mourning what might have been, what should have been. He hoped it wouldn’t end up going the way for her that it had for him. Avitus still might pull through. Castis had been all but gone by the time Garrus and the rest of the backup he’d called for had reached him.

She gazed at him, her expression flashing with alarm, but quickly fading into disconsolation. She stepped forward, tentatively lifting her hands onto his shoulders and leaning into him. He returned the gesture, and they exchanged a comforting press against one another. Humans did something similar, but it was a full on embrace, wrapping their arms all around one another. To turians, that would have been a reasonably intimate interaction that wasn’t appropriate here.

“You...haven’t told anyone, have you?” Sen inquired, thick with trepidation.

“Never,” Garrus assured her. He supposed her reaction to her brother’s injuries might have been at least somewhat suspicious to the others who had been there, but they didn’t know what he knew. And he’d keep it that way. Sen’s hands squeezed his shoulders briefly.

“Thank you,” she whispered as they separated. “I don’t care, but Avitus didn’t want anyone to know. He’s extraordinarily private. And, you know, probably doesn’t want to be associated with me.”

“I doubt that,” Garrus replied. “I’d imagine he wouldn’t want anyone to target you in order to get to him.”

“That’s...nice of you,” she sighed. “You should probably get going.”

“Yeah,” Garrus said. “If you need someone to talk to-”

“I appreciate the offer, Garrus, but I’ll be fine. Enjoy your night for both of us, okay?”

“Will do,” he promised.

\-----

When Garrus’ cab pulled up to the front of the magnificent hall that was serving as the location of the party, he was surprised to see Shepard standing outside, already waiting for him. She looked...well, lovely, if he had to put a word to it. She was wearing the same black dress from before, and her hair was down. She’d done something to her face, some manner of face paint that only really enhanced her features. She was holding a wine bottle, idly turning it over in her hands as she waited. She smiled as she saw him approach.

“Vakarian,” she greeted him.

“Shepard,” he returned, trying not to make his staring too obvious. He pointed at the bottle. “What would that be about?”

“Oh, this? Swiped it from inside while I was casing the joint. There were pallets of the stuff, so I was pretty sure they wouldn’t miss one bottle. Guaranteed dual-chirality safe.”

“I see,” Garrus chuckled. “And the reason for that was-?”

She shrugged. “Well, while I was in there I remembered how much I really hate these kinds of functions. So I wondered if you’d rather go do something else. Together.”

His heart started doing the thing again, and his mandibles flared a little without his permission. 

“Definitely.”

“Great. If you want to come this way, I rented us an aircar. Put in for the requisition through the Alliance and, to my surprise, it went through.”

“You were really banking on me agreeing to come along, huh?”

“You could say that,” she smirked at him. “But if you’re not up to it, I’ll just have to find somewhere to drink this by myself.”

“Well in that case, I wouldn’t want to let you down,” he grinned. The aircar was from a nearby lot, retrieved by an asari valet who brightly wished them a good evening, making obvious assumptions about the couple. The ride out was pretty quiet, Shepard searching through the exceeding variety of music stations until she found one she liked. She explained something about a rather old genre of Earth music called ‘Classical,’ and Garrus found it aesthetically inoffensive. Eventually they made it out to a shore line, pulling up at a grassy spot that gave way to the dark lake water glittering under the starlight.

Shepard found a spot to park, got out, and circled around to the side of the car facing the water, standing out a few meters from the shore. Garrus followed her, and for a while they simply enjoyed one another’s company, passing the bottle between them since Shepard hadn’t seen fit to make off with glassware as well. As time wore on and his inhibitions wore off, Garrus was steadily becoming more aware of just how good Shepard looked to him. How attractive he found her strength and prowess. How magnetic her confidence was, pushing him to be willing to do what it took to make her consider him worthy of her.

He’d been terrified of his attraction to her, unwilling to face what it might mean that he wanted to be with a human. But he was sure now, it wasn’t humans.

It was Shepard.

If she _had_ been a turian, it simply would have been far more obvious to him from the beginning. And he likely would have fumbled it far worse than he already had, if things with Sen had been any indication.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked him, as though having detected his thoughts. He cleared his throat.

“I...suppose I might have been wondering if it was too late to give you an answer. About whether I wanted to see where this goes.”

Shepard took a swig and smirked. “Maybe not too late, just yet. Cutting it pretty close, though.”

“I was hoping not,” he replied, taking the bottle as she offered it to him. It was almost empty.

“Let’s hear it, then. The suspense is killing me over here.”

Garrus finished off the wine and then took a deep breath. “I think I really, definitely do.”

Shepard leaned into him and his every nerve was instantly aware of her body against his.

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” she slid an arm around his waist. He didn’t shiver, and if he did, it was because it was getting a little cool out. Despite how warm he suddenly felt all over.

\-----

“How about we give it a trial run?” she asked, her voice sultry.

Garrus swallowed. “Right _now_?”

“There may have been an ulterior motive at play in bringing you out here. In a rental.”

“Oh,” he said. _OH_ , he thought. 

She stepped around to face him, heaping one hand on his waist and the other searching for the side of his neck. “Any preferences on how we get started?”

“I, ah,” he fumbled, blood flushing through him. “Well, if you were a turian, I’d be, um-”

He didn’t know what to do with his hands, whether to touch her back or wait until she gave him a cue of some sort that he probably wouldn’t recognize until it was too late-

_I’d be every bit as useless as I am right now._

She touched his mouth with her fingers, and he fell quiet. “Well, I’m not a turian,” she half-smiled, “I’m human. So how about we try this.”

She kissed him. And even though human-style kissing was off the table for him anatomically, he’d learned from last time there were makeshift solutions to at least nominally participating. Most of them involved using his tongue, and for that he wasn’t complaining. He took a risk and lifted his hands to her sides, just above her hips. She moved forward into him in response, a good sign. Then she kept pushing him back, but keeping him close to her as she did and not breaking the interplay going on between their mouths.

She continued advancing on him until his back bumped up against the shuttle. Shepard shifted, moving her kisses down along one of his mandibles and gradually making her way to his neck. Her kissing started to turn into tongue and teeth and nibbling, to his shudder of delight. His hands slid along her back over the fabric of her dress, gently pulling her flush against him. He thought he could feel her heart hammering away against his chest, or maybe that was his own.

His fingers found her neck, careful over the especially soft flesh, burrowing into the hair at the bottom of her scalp. He didn’t know why he couldn’t quite get enough of it, the sensation of her soft, tickling tendrils on his thick skin. She moaned as he massaged his fingers and the slightest hint of talons against her scalp, in a way that lit up the parts of his brain that said ‘ _do that again_ ’. It triggered a feedback loop of enjoying her enjoyment, of being pleased by her pleasure. He was glad now that he’d filed his talons to a safer edge, even if he’d felt presumptuous about his chances of touching her that night when he’d been doing so.

As much as he was loving her mouth all over his neck and cowl, all of his instincts wanted to be using his tongue and teeth on her as well. He’d take it easy with the teeth, of course, if he found a way to use them safely at all. He dipped his head, drawing his tongue along her throat, feeling the pulse of blood there under her jaw. Her fingers dug into his clothes and she made a whimpering sort of sound that was just _delicious_. Entirely on reflex he tightened his embrace on her, needing her closer. He had to change tack, as he was now resisting a powerful swell of need to sink his teeth into her delicate skin. He ran his tongue and lips down to her collarbone instead, just in case. Her head lolled back and she moaned more. Encouraging.

He hadn’t even noticed that she’d been fumbling at the car door behind him until he felt it push outward, unsealing with a mechanical whine. He turned his head, sufficiently distracted despite having been recently completely engrossed in her. Shepard slipped around him and ducked into the back seat of the car. He stared after her a moment, not entirely sure of his next move. Then, sensing his hesitation, she reached out and hooked her hand on his cowl. Normally such an action was considered aggressive and disrespectful among his people, but his instinctive recoil was beaten out by him finally registering what she was up to. He’d have to inform her on the fine points later, but for now he was perfectly willing to give her a pass. 

He climbed into the vehicle with her, maneuvering his ungainly long limbs carefully between her and the small gap between the seats. She helped guide him to a sitting position, then climbed onto his lap. She straddled him and immediately went back to doing wonderful mouth things to his face and neck. He wrapped her up in his arms, feeling like that was exactly where she was meant to be, pressing her into him with building fervor. 

Garrus started to become acutely aware of the heat between her legs pressed into his lower abdomen, as she writhed against him rhythmically and slow. The pressure that had been subtly building behind his plates made a sudden surge, and he almost yelped from the sensation. If she were one of his kind, that sort of warmth would have been an indication that she was already completely aroused and ready for him to enter her, that her plates had already completed what his own were preparing to do. It wasn’t something that often happened before a sufficient amount of foreplay had been committed, and frequently including some amount of oral stimulation. He’d never experienced it from a previous partner, and it sent an incredibly enticing message to his base brain. Telling him she wanted him, needed him _now_. 

But, as she’d reminded him, she wasn’t a turian. It didn’t necessarily mean anywhere near the same thing, no matter how badly he wanted it to.

Garrus drew one hand from around her and felt his way up her thigh in the dark, up under the fabric that had been pushed up around her hips by their jostling. She vocalized more encouragement his way, and he moved a bit faster, more decisively. His fingers ran into more fabric around her pelvis, some other garment, and he didn’t have the first idea what he was to do about it. She’d have to climb off him in order to to get it off, he could tell that much. And he didn’t want her off. Then he felt her hand taking his, using the other to push the cloth to one side to expose his goal underneath. He wondered for half a second what the point of that article even was, but that fleeting question was rapidly discarded in favor of much more interesting goings-on.

His mind started to build a general idea of her anatomy entirely from feel, and he was relishing all of it. Rather than plates she had folds of flesh, which he’d somewhat expected. One thing that did surprise him was that there was hair there, too. Marginally coarser than that on the rest of her, but he decided he liked the textile sensation just as much. She helped his thumb find what he discerned was a small sort of nub, and that must have been a significant erogenous zone because her moan immediately deepened, lengthened. It was everything he could do to focus enough to keep himself in his sheath. She urged his forefinger to her opening, after assessing the state of his talons of course, and from there he rapidly caught on. He was _so_ much happier about his choice to file them.

She rode his hand, her breaths and gasps coming steadily faster as he worked against her. Every so often she reached down to readjust him in what he was doing, but he didn’t mind a bit. He was savoring every bit of this. His thoughts took him to how much he’d enjoy taking the time to lay her down and get his face between her thighs. He wanted to learn how she tasted, to see how well he could translate the mechanics of pleasing her with his hand to his tongue. He had to put a stop to that train of thought as he realized that an uncomfortable situation inside his pants was imminent. He needed to focus on finishing her, quickly; it would be plain rude to stop _now_ just to let himself out.

And then, her back arched away from him, her head falling back, her thighs tightening hard against the outside of his own. In a beautiful, several seconds long display, she vocalized with what had to be her climax. It was glorious. He wanted nothing more than to see her do that again, on top of him this time.

She sank back forward into him, pressing her forehead against his. He didn’t know whether she understood the significance of the gesture, but he nuzzled her back with vigor. He thought about bringing his hand up to his mouth and nose, to get an idea of her scent and her smell. But he didn’t want to try that with her face right there next to his. He wasn’t sure how she’d react. Another time, then. Something to look forward to.

Then he was aware that her hand was going for the fastening on his pants, which was terribly considerate of her. She tried a couple different plans of attack, and then gave up.

“Never mind. You’re gonna have to do that,” she huffed between slowing breaths. Garrus was more than happy to oblige. He worked the fastening and shuffled his pants down just mid-thigh, releasing the clenched muscles he’d been flexing to keep himself in. He started to feel himself escape the confines of behind his plates, already swollen to around half capacity. And then he heaved a surprised gasp of need as her hand slid around him in a gentle grip. The flesh was particularly sensitive as it emerged, and she’d gone and wrapped it up in her silky fingers, sending an intense shock through his every nerve. His acute reaction hadn’t dissuaded her, which meant she’d interpreted it correctly. His blood surged, and he felt himself rapidly expand until he was fully, tightly aroused in her loose fist. She slid her hand up and down over him at a torturously slow pace. Spirits, he hadn’t gotten to full arousal this quickly since he’d been a pent up teenager.

“This okay?” Shepard breathed into his ear.

“Yes,” he rumbled, his throat thick with eager need. “But this is even better.”

He carefully borrowed himself back from her hand, using his other to feel for her opening. She realized what he was up to and acquiesced to him immediately, lifting her pelvis off of his lap. She shifted herself until she was right over him, and he could feel the burning hot touch of her precipice grazing at his tip. The tension in him was unbearable. Finally she pressed herself down onto him, sinking him deep into her. She felt utterly incredible on him. A long moan found its way from his lungs as his primitive mind howled and rejoiced at finally getting what it had wanted for so long. While he soaked in the hormonal rush, she was rising up from him, then lowering herself back again. She drew his hands to her hips as she rocked on him, and he clung to her hungrily. She looped her arms behind his neck. His pelvis started to move in time to hers, settling on a mutual rhythm that seemed to be working for both of them, forcing himself not to hurry like he desperately wanted to.

In the dark he could see the outline of black of her dress as her rising and falling caused it to slip down off her shoulders. It left her torso mostly bare, save for another mysterious undergarment, her skin reflecting the silvery moonlight. He leaned in to her, drawing his tongue up along her sternum, taking in her salt and savor. He listened with rapt intent for the new sounds she made from it, and as he did it again and again her excitement and the speed at which she was riding him increased. It was driving him right towards his precipice, but somehow still not quickly enough.

He embraced her tighter, one arm across her back and gripping her opposite shoulder, the other snug around her hips, until she was pressed more firmly, desperately against his chest. Gradually he began to take over control of the pace, needing to go faster, _faster_. Shepard continued to loudly voice her approval, and eventually he was practically holding her still until he was thrusting himself into her at a feverish clip. She was crying out in a euphoric response, her thighs and arms clenching him tighter. This was right. He needed this. He needed _her_.

“Shepard,” he moaned. He was going to finish, and it was going to be soon. And idiot though he was, he only realized right then that this would be his first time actually having to worry about finishing _in_ a woman. Any time prior there had been whatever manner of protection or avoidance, but that hadn't come up here. A million stupid little questions crackled to life in his mind of how he should handle it, should he withdraw first, why hadn’t they discussed her preference, was he going to have to stop, he desperately didn’t want to stop-

“Do it, Garrus,” Shepard ordered, raggedly panting, dissolving his worries in an instant. “Come on. Right now.”

That was all it took to bring on the end. That and a handful of hungry, forceful thrusts. He groaned out loudly up at the car’s roof as his climax burst from him in an explosive rush, releasing his fluids deep into her. His whole body spasmed and stiffened, his grip on Shepard tightening enough he hoped he wasn’t hurting her. His blood was absolutely saturated with pleasure hormones and adrenaline, and he shook at the sudden intensity of this climax. It had all been over a bit embarrassingly quick, but she didn’t give any indication she minded. He worked on recovering the scattered bits of his mind while she relaxed into him, her satisfied hum against his neck expressing his precise feelings on the matter before he was able to recognize them.

He didn’t know how long they rested there together in the bliss of afterglow. It didn’t matter. They could be out all night; there wasn’t any pressing business waiting for them in the morning. For a while, she was the only thing in the galaxy that mattered.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we're back! Thanks to everyone for your support and comments, it all means a lot.

With the Academy’s total population having been culled significantly over the course of a weekend, the next time they were all called together their destination was not the individual amphitheaters, but the main Academy commons. With a fraction of the previous demographic, the building’s excessive mass was entirely appropriate as a gathering place. Shepard’s first impression was that this had always been the eventual intention, that all at once the dimensions and arrangement made sense. The other primary difference was that this time there were no big screen holo displays; rather merely a standard audio amplification setup for the upcoming address. The entire complement of Spectres were arranged up on a raised dais before them, in a line across the stage. Most of them Shepard had seen at one point or another, whereas one or two she somehow hadn’t. It was an imposing gathering, actually seeing them all in one place at the same time. All but one. The yet-incapacitated Spectre Rix was still unconscious the last she’d heard.

Most of the Spectres were engaged in their own conversations with one another, seeming at once not unlike the candidates they were training. Shepard surveyed them, formulating a general understanding of which them acted more familiar with one another, who was on friendlier terms with who. It was an enlightening several minutes. Only Nihlus stood alone, front and center, with his hands behind his back surveying the growing body of candidates. His eyes found her after a moment, and they exchanged a contemplative moment of realizing they were each doing the same as the other.

A clearing throat from beside her drew her attention. Shepard turned her head and saw Garrus, having side-stepped up the aisle to her. He nodded down at the vacancy to her left.

“Seat taken?” he asked, sounding genuinely hopeful but still giving her license to dismiss him if she wished. This man. He was adorable in his way. Not her usual type, but he was quickly growing on her.

“It will be once you’re in it.” She smiled at him and slung an arm over the back of the empty chair.

It took him half a second to process her answer as the invitation she’d meant it as, and he settled himself next to her. They had another fifteen minutes or so of free time to themselves before the official announcements were to be given. Around half the seats had been filled, with more bodies streaming in rapidly. As significant a collective their number was, it felt comparatively tiny after the past several weeks of swimming through the masses.

“I was hoping to get your thoughts,” Garrus had leaned towards her, keeping his voice low under the ambient noise of surrounding conversations. “About last night. Our, um...trial run.”

“You want to know if I was good with how it all shook out, huh?” Shepard forced back a cheeky grin as Garrus tensed a little.

“Well. I may be invested in whether you were...satisfied enough to consider making a regular thing out of it, yes.”

He still sounded so nervous, not at all the cocky, confident guy she knew was in there. The one she’d assumed for whatever reason would come rebounding back after they’d finally coupled. Shepard felt a little proud of him for at least being bold enough to come right out with his proposition this time, out in public at that. Silly euphemisms notwithstanding.

It had been _good_. As in really, really good. As in, after no more than a standard hookup she was starting to retroactively measure Garrus up against all of her past paramours, and he was shaping up to be somewhere in the top 3, at least. He might even take that top spot as handily as he had the top sniper rank if they had the opportunity to take their time and really enjoy one another during the next go-round. She didn’t know if that meant her love life had been the lackluster or if he just had somehow managed to make it seem that way in the space of an hour. To be fair to most of them, military life wasn’t the most conducive to honing the art of seduction and intimacy. Half the time it was good old fashioned ‘hooray, we didn’t die!’ sex and the other half it wasn’t worth putting in more effort when you weren’t likely to see one another again anytime soon. That was the difference, she decided. Garrus gave a damn how she’d felt. How he’d made her feel.

The drive back after their intimate evening had been a somewhat awkward capstone to an undeniably amazing experience; neither of them had had much luck coming up with anything to say afterward that adequately encapsulated the residual mood. The whole experience had been rather rushed and sudden, and the booze had had more than a little influence on quashing any lingering reservations either of them may have had going in. She didn’t _regret_ it. Not whatsoever. But there was a kind of whiplash to the comedown, like a microburst from back on Mindoir, blowing in with overwhelming force and then subsiding to manageable winds in minutes. She’d actually had to start really thinking about what it was she wanted out of this.

Though Garrus had offered to walk her back to her own building she’d politely declined, though they had kissed and nuzzled again in the front seat of the car for a minute before their parting. And she’d slept better than she had in weeks. She also was looking forward to a second ‘date’ more than she had in a long ass time. But this anticipation was tempered by other thoughts. Issues that hadn’t been issues until they’d officially consummated...whatever it was they were doing. She’d had to start accepting that even that this wasn’t shaping up to be simple, casual sex. She needed to figure out what this was. What she wanted out of it.

And that was the problem. She did know, on some level. It was more a matter now of planning, strategy.

“I didn’t make my thoughts on the matter clear enough?” she asked, a light, teasing edge in her voice. 

“I didn’t want to make any assumptions,” he replied, sounding a little more relaxed. “Is...that a yes? I’d be willing to give it another go if you need more...proof of concept to convince you.”

“I’m certain you would,” Shepard glanced sidelong at him, and his eyes locked on hers. There was an obvious _want_ in his gaze, now. Their shenanigans had done nothing to slake his thirst; rather it had only stoked the furnace of his desires more. Shepard was almost a little alarmed at how much she enjoyed having that kind of raw power over him. Almost.

“That’s a...probably.”

Garrus deflated the slightest, trying to keep the humor in his voice. “Only probably?”

Shepard looked at him. “I think it would be a good idea to go over a few things first, that’s all. Troubleshooting. Make sure we’re on the same p-”

“Candidates,” Nihlus said from the dais, putting a hold on their exchange. His gaze swept over them as a respectful silence quickly descended on the room. “Three months ago, tens of thousands of individuals across the galaxy applied for a chance to attend this Academy. Six weeks ago, the nine hundred of you who were deemed to have the most potential began your evaluations. Today, there are one hundred and sixty seven of you left. In another six weeks, we will know which thirty of you, which of the roughly three percent of many of the galaxy’s most qualified and accomplished individuals are, in fact, exceptional enough to become fully fledged Spectres. 

“That much I’m confident all of you are aware. What you do not know, however, is what this means for all of you, right now. True, only thirty of you will be fully inaugurated Spectres within the next eight months. However, those of you who successfully maintain your good standing at the Academy will afterward immediately go on a shortlist for if and when the next round of Spectres are to be selected. Short of voluntarily withdrawing yourselves from consideration, you will remain on this list indefinitely.”

The room remained stock silent, but an ambience of shock and astonishment was permeating through the air. No one could have expected this, least of all Shepard. She felt something brush her left hand, and glanced down to see Garrus’ fingers tentatively reaching to wrap around her own. She obliged, and he squeezed to communicate his elation to her. She squeezed back.

“As you’re aware, many Spectres opt to assemble teams to aid in their operations. Those who are on this shortlist will also be among the most desirable of such personnel, particularly for our newest Spectres. Selection of a team from these standby candidates will be not only allowed, but encouraged.

“Your achievement at this stage, therefore, is its own reward. You would all be correct to take pride in what you’ve accomplished here. However, your trials are not over yet. The competitions and testing to take place over the next six weeks will be the most grueling yet to come. You’ve all proven that you _could_ be Spectres. Now comes the time to prove to us which of you _will_ be.”

His body language became more animated and his voice rose to a rallying pitch at the end of his final pronouncement, ending on a raised fist into the air. A sound of collective exultation rose from the crowd, many of those around Shepard even jumping to their feet. Not her, as she was staring ahead in numb contemplation of what had just occurred. She had felt an abrupt jerk when Garrus had almost joined the rowdier celebrants, but at the first recognition of Shepard’s own hesitance, he’d reversed course and stayed seated next to her.

“Shepard?” he checked in with her softly, almost inaudibly beneath the din. She smiled lightly over to him, setting a hand on the outside of his thigh to let him know she was all right. Once the noise had died back to a dull roar, the crowd was given their final acknowledgement of when their schedules would be updated, warned to be ready first thing the next morning, and dismissed.

Shepard waited out the chaos of the crowd dispersal, watching as the group disassembled into its constituent, smaller groups of revelers and poured back out of the building through every exit. Garrus waited stalwartly at her side for the entirety of it.

“That’s…” Garrus’s mandibles were splayed in a grand smile. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I don’t think anyone was,” Shepard concurred. Up until now, every moment had been a precarious race to not be eliminated. This change was a reversal of that entire experience. All anyone had to do now was not spectacularly screw up.

“Well,” he finally broached, still basking in the news, “if you want to talk, uh, other things out, it sounds like we have the rest of today free?”

Shepard climbed to her feet, giving him an apologetic look. They did need to do that, but there was other pressing business that needed attending to. That, and she wanted to be entirely sure of what she wanted, and a decent idea of how they were going to pull it off. She did appreciate his enthusiasm, though.

“I have some things I need to take care of today. Is it okay if we take a rain check for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Garrus replied, clearly disappointed but covering it well enough. “Sure thing.”

She hooked his hindfinger with her pinky and ring finger and squeezed, while fixing him with direct, meaningful eye contact. He appeared to get her meaning, his own expression softening from the worry that had been threatening to set in. He leaned forward toward her ever so slightly, dipping his head towards her before thinking better of it and leaning back again. She’d done enough research and had sufficient firsthand experience by now to know what it had meant. How it made her feel it all but solidified her certainty that this wasn’t casual to him, either. She turned away with considerable effort, and directed herself towards the hallway entrance that led to the Spectre wing. 

Most of the staff had already filed their way down the hall, but Nihlus was there, waiting for her. He’d just looked up from his omnitool display, his mandibles twitching impatiently at seeing her. He gestured down the hall with his chin as she approached his position.

“Let’s to the lounge,” Nihlus said, turning to lead her on down the way. “We won’t be bothered there.”

“You’re sure?” Shepard asked quizzically, having to walk double-time to keep up. Lounges tended to mean traffic.

“We won’t be if I say we won’t,” he informed her in a clipped tone. The stress must have been getting to him.

“What’s wrong with your office?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned with.”

The Spectres’ communal lounge was a lovely, serene room that called right back to the Citadel tower. She was familiar with the aesthetic of the place from pictures, not from having ever been there in person. It gave her chills to think that may change in the not so distant future. The lighting and coloration were all basically the same as far as she could tell, with only the several plush, white couches and a few of the food-related amenity stands looking out of place. There was even one of the same pink-leafed Thessian ‘plum’ trees at the center, surrounded by a small circular stream. Nihlus sealed the door behind him, making good on his assurance to her. As the seniormost Spectre here, it must have been his prerogative to monopolize whatever space he wanted.

“I’ll likely have more questions for you once Spectre Rix is awake and able to tell us exactly what happened. Other than that, I’d appreciate it if we could make this brief.”

Shepard turned to face him, where he’d stopped to one side of the tree, hands clasped behind his back and turned slightly away from her. Leaves fell sporadically, landing lightly in the water below, flowing bare centimeters from his feet. It would have been a picturesque scene in another circumstance.

“First, sir, I’d like to reaffirm with you that I’m free to speak my mind.”

Nihlus’ expression tightened, but he nodded. “As you feel is appropriate.”

“Good,” Shepard formed up in front of him in an at-ease stance, one hand flat on top of the other at her lower back. It was instinctual at this point, her current service status notwithstanding.

“Spectre Kryik. What the _fuck_ is actually going on here? Sir?”

His mandibles twitched, not in the smiling way. “I’ll need to ask you to be more specific.”

“Seriously? Live bombs in training exercises. Candidates going off the rails and attacking each other. I just got my _ass_ kicked, possibly in part because I didn’t know everything I should have been allowed to know, like the fact that Kyeros was cracking. You’ve told me that there are things you can’t tell me because I’m not a Spectre. But I’m starting to find myself of the opinion that that’s bullshit. _You’re_ a Spectre, you could tell me whatever the hell you wanted and no one could say or do anything about it.”

“This isn’t a matter of potential reprisal,” Nihlus stepped slowly towards her a couple of meters. “But of prudence. I am not inclined to release any more information to you than I find to be absolutely necessary.”

“Then maybe your judgement of what’s necessary needs work,” Shepard snapped. Nihlus was keeping up a poker face, but she could tell he was seriously unhappy with her petulance. 

“And you know better?” Nihlus rumbled at her. His voice had gone low, admonishing.

“I know that you don’t have as much control over the situation here as you want everyone to believe.”

He stared hard into her, his breathing slowing and deepening. It reminded her of vids she’d seen of tigers back on earth, focusing with deadly intent, readying to lunge on their prey.

“Is that so.”

“It is,” Shepard insisted, unintimidated. “And I’m here, willing to help you. You _wanted_ my help. But I need to know what I’m looking at. I’m not going to keep being your gopher while you refuse to even tell me what is or isn’t significant. I’ll keep looking into it until I find what I’m after, but if we can’t come to some kind of compromise, I can’t promise I’ll be coming to you when I do.”

“Careful, Shepard,” he warned her. “You know better than most why that would be a very _bad_ idea.”

“I’m. Not. Quillan,” Shepard shifted out of her stance and leaned forward at him. She was locked into this, no backing down now. “You came to _me_ , and I don’t believe you would have if you didn’t feel damn sure what I’m about. So from here on out, either you trust me, or you don’t, but you can fully expect me to respond accordingly.”

Everything she’d ever wanted to unload on a stubborn, ignorant commanding officer from her early service had come pouring out of her like a burst valve. It was no bluff; there was a decent chance he was going to dismiss her now, shut down any communication between them, end whatever rapport they’d been building. On the extreme end, he might even decide to ultimately have her ejected. That was a consequence she’d had to accept before coming in here. This was too important.

The man’s eyes narrowed, peering at her thoughtfully. He didn’t look pleased, but not wrathful at her insubordination, either. He sucked in a deep breath as he processed her proclamation. He didn’t react near as badly as she’d feared he might have. When he spoke next his voice was tempered by a practiced, enforced calm and restraint.

“Tell me what your conclusions are, and I will confirm or deny them as I see fit.”

Shepard relaxed marginally, straightening her posture and tipping her chin up. This part she hadn’t been confident they would get to, but she was ready.

“The listening devices. That was you, or the other Spectres, for keeping tabs on the candidates. Maybe only the ones you had concerns about, maybe all of us. There are probably other kinds of devices we haven’t found yet.”

Nihlus hesitated a minute, then made an almost imperceptible nod. Enough of a ‘yes’ for her. Galvanized, Shepard pressed forward.

“The bombing was someone else. So was any of the other direct sabotage that’s gone on. Someone is doing this, either as a distraction or as a way to make us turn on one another. They want to interfere with the selection process.”

“Yes,” Nihlus barely whispered, “and, likely.”

There was a shade of something unfamiliar in his tone. It sounded almost like worry. Or fear.

“And you have your suspicions, but you don’t know who it is yet, or their specific motivations.”

His stare was longer this time. He appeared more reluctant to admit to that supposition. Finally he sighed, ever so slightly.

“No.”

“Okay,” Shepard said. _That wasn’t so damned hard, now was it?_ she didn’t say. She sucked in another breath. “Why did Kyeros think it was me doing this?”

“That, I don’t know,” he replied. “We likely won’t until we’ve brought him in. And possibly not even then.”

She swallowed, a thickness building in her throat. She remembered stars in her vision, falling into the void. “You still haven’t found him?”

“Not yet,” Nihlus said, his tone a touch conciliatory. “Is there anything else?”

“No, but there will be,” she promised. “In the spirit of maintaining mutual trust, you should know I’m not the only one looking into this. But I trust those who are helping me, and I’m keeping an eye on everyone else who might know anything. I can give you their names if you want them.”

“Appreciated,” Nihlus replied soberly. “None of these individuals are aware of _our_ arrangement, I trust?”

Shepard frowned. “Not yet. That wouldn’t be a problem if they did, would it?”

“It may well be. I expect you to confirm with me before sharing that information. Is there any particular individual you have in mind?” 

Shepard paused only for a moment. “Garrus Vakarian.”

“No.” Nihlus didn’t so much as hesitate. Shepard’s face flashed with indignation at the off-hand rejection.

“Why the hell not?”

Nihlus raised a brow plate. “Because I have every reason to think your personal feelings are influencing you in that decision.”

Shepard took a quick breath and came back quieter, less confident. She hoped her poker face was holding. “What reason is that?”

“Shepard, you’ve managed to deduce that we’ve been thoroughly observing all of the goings on here at the Academy. Did you somehow fail to conclude that would also encompass every activity and exercise you’ve partaken in? And every conversation _within_ them?”

Shepard’s mind flipped back through every one of her past experiences at the Academy, trying to recall what interactions she may have had with Garrus. The gym, there could well have been cameras there catching them in the act of some impromptu fooling around. Their conversation in the amphitheater was the least likely to have been surveilled. Then she recalled their confrontation on the simulated ship exercise. Garrus admitting his desires to her. And Nihlus, at least, had heard _all_ of it. Of course he had. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she gave herself a quick mental ass-kicking.

“Even granting that you’re right,” Shepard gritted her teeth and pressed on. “Garrus has been investigating this even longer than I have. He was there when everything went down with Kyeros. He came to my aid. I trust him.”

“I’m sorry, Shepard,” Nihlus responded. “I understand your point of view. But I have my doubts about Vakarian, and no, I’m not inclined to share them with you. I believe you’d confront him, and possibly give him the opportunity to premeditatively react.”

Shepard’s mind was rocked by the very suggestion of malfeasance on Garrus’ part. “You can’t possibly think he’s had anything to do with any of this?”

“I think until I’m completely certain otherwise, you have my answer.”

Beyond him, the red door lock indicator flashed orange, then green. Another turian strode in as though on a mission, having easily overridden Nihlus’ own code. He was decked out in silver armor, his appearance strikingly different from most other turians she’d seen. She vaguely recalled some long ago bit of trivia involving a minority sub-ethnicity of turians who had differing features from the larger populace, primarily in their crest and torso structure. It gave him an aura of imposing unpredictability. But there was something else to him. Some intangible, terrible quality to him that her instincts were picking up on, but the conscious explanation wasn’t yet forthcoming.

The other turian stopped a few meters behind Nihlus just as the other man followed Shepard’s attention to him.

“Saren,” Nihlus said in plain surprise. “What are you doing here?

Saren, as it was, fixed a vitriolic sneer on Shepard.

“I was contacted. I could ask the same about _that_ ,” he replied, scowl still fixed on her. She returned the expression with an undertone of her own defiance. _That_. Like she wasn’t even a person.

“Shepard, leave us please,” Nihlus entreated her.

“Gladly,” she growled low in the back of her throat, not breaking the shared glare until she’d made it past Saren.

“Bothering yourself with _humans_ , Nihlus?” she could hear him asking derisively as the door closed behind her.

  
_Yes,_ she thought defiantly. _I’m human. And when I’m a Spectre, I hope it sticks in your damned craw._


	25. Chapter 25

Garrus’ gaze followed Shepard as she left him there in the main hall. For all he’d been struggling up to this point to just be honest with her and himself, now it was harder to hold back, to be patient. He didn’t want to wait to talk again. To be with her again. They were soon going to find themselves busier than ever, and he didn’t know how much time they were going to have. Or, perish the thought, what would come after. But, if she needed him to wait a bit longer, he needed to wait. They had at least another six weeks’ worth of time.

Then his eyes landed on her again, just as she and Nihlus disappeared down a hallway.

He’d seen her going to Nihlus’ office at least twice since the day the Spectre had come to meet with her personally. She hadn’t ever explained the reason to him, and Garrus wasn’t of the opinion that it was his place to ask. He was going to have to trust her. She was just as aware of the insidious goings on as he was, and maybe she had been aware for longer than he was giving her credit. But it left him moderately perturbed, regardless of what his internal logic said, that she hadn’t seen fit to fill him in.

He was on his own way out when a figure standing at the main doors gave him pause. The black armor, the off-white colony markings. The rigid expression underlined with pain. Macen Barro. And his eyes were fixed firmly on Garrus as he approached.

“Vakarian,” he stated, and Garrus nodded as though it had been a question.

“Sir?”

“Avitus is awake,” Macen informed him. “And needs to speak with you.”

“I’ll be glad to help however I can,” Garrus replied even through the sudden rise of tension in his gut. Macen jerked his head, a gesture to Garrus to follow, and led him into the front courtyard and out to the private shuttle landing pad. 

“What’s the status on Kyeros?” Garrus asked, eager for an update.

“There isn’t one,” Macen growled brusquely, disappointing him. The operative didn’t elaborate further, silently activating the shuttle’s doors as they approached. It seemed Macen would be piloting it himself. Garrus slipped into the front passenger seat, his frame stiff with apprehension. He shouldn’t have felt so concerned over what exactly Spectre Rix wanted, but he couldn’t will himself out of it.

“Av-. Ehem. Avitus has spoken about you,” Macen finally said once they were well underway and the autopilot could be engaged. Garrus recoiled internally, his thoughts squirming uncomfortably over the multitude of interpretations that he could take away from that revelation.

“About me?” Garrus asked in reflexive disbelief. “Why?”

“You’re his first choice for his recommendation, and he wanted my opinion,” Macen replied as though it were mundane, common knowledge. 

Garrus sat there in turbulent stillness, not having any clue how to react. His attention sought to find anything beyond the windows to focus on, because what was going on inside the shuttle was a bit much. The scenery whipped on by them rapidly, gradually shifting from a rural setting to the urban development of the nearby city. “I didn’t know that.”

“Perhaps you haven’t been paying attention.”

Garrus frowned, mildly offended by the implication. “He’s never said anything to me of the sort, or given so much as that impression any time we’ve talked.”

_It sure would have been nice if he had,_ Garrus thought. _Since he apparently had no issue telling someone who isn’t even one of the Academy staff, regardless of the reason._

Macen didn’t react. “I told him he’s being shortsighted. That it’s because he sees things in you that remind him of himself, and it’s tainting his opinions. I tried telling him you’re more like Quillan, than him. He didn’t want to hear it.”

Garrus’ thoughts erupted into wild, indignant flame. “I am _nothing_ like Kyeros.”

“Right,” Macen chortled bitterly. “Not a savant. Not a hothead. Not some vigilante whose sense of justice sees his sense of procedure as little more than a useless impediment. That’s not you at all, is it?”

Garrus struggled mightily against the comparison, even if Macen had found a way to make it seem apt. The broad strokes were there, he wasn’t too proud to admit that. And at one point Garrus had considered Ky to be everything that he himself strived to be. But that image had been since shattered quite spectacularly back in the jungles. Now everything about his former frame of thought sickened him to recall. Kyeros was wrong in the head, a horrifically twisted version of what he’d portrayed himself to be. The jovial and affable personification had all been little more than a convincing act.

“ _Sir_ ,” Garrus strained against the sense of subordinate propriety that had never quite come naturally to him. It had had to be reinforced on him constantly through his childhood and adolescence and even then, never really stuck. “With respect, I don’t know why you think you can make an accurate judgement about me based off a thirdhand conversation. I am _not_ what he is. I’d never do the things he’s done.”

“Not now, perhaps,” Macen conceded. “But I’ve known the man for over a decade. For most of that time he was my subordinate, and from early on I considered him a friend. The divide that rent asunder our previous relationship is a recent one, but it was years in the making. When Avi asked me to read through your psych profile, I thought I may as well have been reading Quillan’s from when he first took up with Blackwatch.”

A cold slithering sensation weaved its way through Garrus’ gut. He wanted it to be a lie, or the biased conjecture of a man who’d been badly burned by someone he’d once trusted. He wouldn’t let himself accept that assessment, pushing it far away so he didn’t have to examine it too closely.

“You haven’t seen the things he has,” Macen continued. “Gone through what he has. Been broken again and again and had to piece yourself back together, a little more imperfectly each time. But what happens in another ten years, Vakarian, when you have?”

“I don’t know,” Garrus admitted, mostly to avoid having to speculate and potentially consider that he might be right.

“It’s my fault things came to this,” Macen said, losing himself somewhere in his thoughts. “I didn’t want to see what he was becoming. I didn’t want to be the one to pull the plug on his career, on our friendship. I let my feelings get in the way of my good judgement, and I’ve been having to suffer the consequences. And now, so is Avi.”

Garrus’ eyes found the floor panel beneath his feet. There was nothing he could really say to that, but the silence in the shuttle was thickening, choking. He felt compelled to push back against the crushing weight of Macen’s narrative.

“What happened back t _here_ wasn’t your fault,” Garrus said. “You didn’t even know he’d come here to begin with.”

“I let him walk out of the tower that day instead of putting him in a cell,” Macen snarled. “Or a grave. Everything that has followed, I could have prevented.”

Garrus shifted back in his seat. “What?”

Macen sucked in a sharp breath. “There was a terrorist attack. Taetrans, like him, but radicalized separatists. They’re called Facinus; you may have heard of them. Taetrus has been pushing for independence for ages, and finally there were talks happening. Not total sovereignty, but some concessions in that direction. Political bullshit. Except things didn’t end up going the way Facinus would have liked, and so they made the decision to retaliate. We got the intel ahead of time that something was being planned, so we did what we do. Only, Quillan found them first. And he obfuscated that intel. He knew that our policy with terrorists is total elimination, no mercy. So he warned them, told them to leave Palaven to save their lives. Instead, they laid low and simply delayed their attack by a few days. Their attack was even more devastating thanks to him.”

Garrus stared at Macen in horror. “Why _didn’t_ you turn him in?”

“I didn’t have enough proof,” Macen scowled out ahead of them. “And as I said, up until that point I hadn’t wanted to believe it. But ultimately I had enough to go on that I couldn’t deny it anymore, because I knew him. The public statement he was ordered to give, that was my doing. He’d either have to publicly deny what he’d done, to lie and potentially hang himself in doing so, or he could confess privately to me and face the consequences. Instead, he walked away. And I let him. I told myself it was mercy. But it was weakness, and failure.”

Garrus peered at Macen a moment. Facts started to fall into place. Dozens of people had died in that attack, big name politicians included. It had been big news for weeks. And in turian culture, Macen would be considered at least as culpable as Kyeros, and responsible for rectifying the situation he’d had a hand in creating. For Macen, taking Ky out wasn’t just about vengeance, it was also fixing his own mistakes. Balancing the scales.

“Why not have Avitus deal with him?”

“He wanted to, and he would have, but I told him no. He can’t be my personal assassin, the wetworks man at my beck and call. That’s a slippery slope I won’t let us go down. Besides, this was my own doing. I wasn’t about to have Avi handling my mistakes for me.”

“That’s…honorable.”

“Yes, well. You can guess how the past few days have been making me reconsider most of my recent life decisions.” He then turned a piercing glare on Garrus. “All of this turmoil and pain, Vakarian, has happened because Quillan and I were both doing what we personally felt was _right_. We both said ‘damn your rules,’ in our own ways, and these are the results. People are dead. Kyeros is AWOL, probably off-planet by now. I hold a position I don’t deserve anymore. And if all of that weren’t enough, I almost lost my-” he bit the rest of the sentence off. Garrus reflexively finished the sentiment in his head, and let the significance hang there as the shuttle descended on the hospital’s side landing pad.

Macen led him in through the building, a spacious, off-white place bustling with activity and calls over the PA system ringing out every couple of minutes. The place still had the same stinging smell of strong cleaning chemicals, was still overly brightly lit. Macen strode ahead of him with total purpose and direction, slipping easily through the various staff moving hurriedly from one location to another. They passed into a recovery ward, all the way down into a secluded set of suites Garrus supposed were for patients whose status called for a higher level of privacy and security. Inside were Avitus and Sen, abruptly ending whatever conversation they’d been having at seeing the new arrivals. It had sounded somewhat like like bickering, but without teeth. Garrus nodded to Sen, who lowered her face, removing herself from the room with her hand giving barely a graze to Garrus’ shoulder.

“Are you feeling any better?” Macen asked. His voice was filled with concern, but the question still felt stilted.

“The same,” Avitus replied while keeping his tone even. “You’ll have to be going, soon.”

“I have a few more hours,” Macen replied, his throat constricting. Garrus could feel from where he was at the door that Macen wanted nothing more than to go to Avitus, to be in physical proximity. But he didn’t. He kept himself back, focusing on the business at hand. He was struggling with it more than Avitus seemed to be. Garrus was well aware by now what Macen and Avitus were to each other, neither of them could have supposed he wasn’t, but it seemed likely that the distance they kept from one another in public was ingrained by long years of habit.

It wasn’t the most unlikely pairing; Blackwatch was effectively the same thing for Palaven that the Spectres were for the Council. They’d have to have understood one another terribly well, been expected to operate at the same level of competency and loyalty. But they also had conflicting interests, irreconcilable duties. Garrus doubted they were able to actually have time together very often at all.

It reminded him of the many years he’d spent seeing his father mostly in vids or news reports rather than in person, how stoic his mother had always been about it. He’d asked her once why they didn’t just move to the Citadel, and all she had replied was that because Palaven was home. It hadn’t been until he’d settled on the Citadel himself, in the tiny, constricting apartment that had been the first residence that had been all his own, that he’d realized on Palaven they had had an actual house with a yard in a relatively safe part of the city. On the Citadel they’d likely have had to live in a cramped apartment in the Wards somewhere, with a crime rate he wouldn’t have wanted to subject children to, either, if he could help it.

Dad had his duty to C-Sec. Mom had her duty to what was best for their offspring. And it had kept them apart. Sol was almost of age, and would be going off to boot camp soon. Mom and dad might have finally been able to be together again after twenty-three years. Dad had been coming up on sixty, starting to finally talk retirement.

And then he’d died.

Garrus took in the sight of his mentor. Avitus looked rough, to be generous. His facial plating was visibly cracked in several places- medigel was all but miraculous, but it would still take time to heal the seams. One of the crowns of his crest had been cracked through, affixed back together now with a splint and bandages. There was bruising just visible under his flesh, indicating just how bad his injuries had been. He’d likely suffered a fair amount of internal bleeding, which was a major concern for injured turians and typically required stents, or surgery. Avitus had sat upright and turned to one side, his knees hanging over the edge of the bed. Thinking appeared to take him a bit longer than usual.

“I need to ask you something, Garrus,” Avitus said in a voice that reminded him unnervingly of Castis for a moment. “And you need to be honest with me. Back in the jungle ruins. Was Shepard ever out of your sight after we parted ways, for any amount of time?”

Garrus was taken aback. They couldn’t possibly suspect her of anything, not after what had happened to her.

“Not whatsoever,” he declared firmly. “We walked to the course endpoint and waited there with everyone else. What do you think she could have done?”

“Not for you to know,” Avitus replied with dubious rigidity. Macen huffed.

“What happened to him was done by a biotic. A powerful one.”

“ _What_?” Garrus demanded, at the same time that Avitus fiercely snapped “ _Macen_.”

“There’s no point in keeping him in the dark,” Macen chided the other man, then looked to Garrus. “Looking at the location where Nihlus found him, and going by confirmation from the medical professionals who examined him, that’s what we’ve been able to deduce. The next step is eliminating suspects.”

“Deduce?” Garrus looked from Macen to Avitus. “You mean you don’t _know_?”

“My memory of what happened is...sparse,” Avitus conceded, sending a light glare Macen’s way. “I remember catching up to Quillan, confronting him. He said he could prove who’d set him up, and I told him I didn’t care. I initiated a firefight. And then, there's nothing, until a few hours ago.”

“And Quillan had claimed Shepard was involved somehow,” Macen added. “Quillan was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Something led him to that conclusion, whether he got it right or not.”

“It wasn’t her,” Garrus was quick to insist. “I swear to you, she was with me the entire time.”

“Not before that day,” Avitus replied gently, carefully.

“No,” Garrus resisted again. “No, Kyeros ruled her out even as we spoke. Whatever he’d thought he’d find in her omnitool, he didn’t. He was attempting to go somewhere before you arrived, and I think it might have been to find whoever his next suspect was.”

The other two men exchanged the kind of look that was a small conversation in itself that Garrus wasn’t privy to.

“I believe you,” Avitus said. “The problem remains that we only have your word on the matter as of now.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Garrus said. “And I’m every bit as invested in uncovering the truth as you. Once we find Kyeros, I’m sure we’ll have a lot of our answers. I assume there’s still someone out there looking?”

Avitus sighed. “There is, or will be soon. Not who I’d have wanted, but yes. 

Macen snorted a little. “I tried with Palaven high command to let me bring my unit this way. Quillan was one of ours, after all. One of mine. They wouldn’t budge.”

“Macen, would you give us a moment?” Avitus asked.

Macen didn’t look entirely pleased about the request, but nodded curtly. He turned and left the room without a word, but did shoot Garrus one more meaningful stare on his way out. Avitus eased himself to his feet, walking towards the balcony while gesturing to Garrus along behind him. Out in the light breeze and overlooking the city, Avitus sank into one of the thin metal chairs and Garrus followed suit.

“I apologize for not being more straightforward with you,” Avitus finally said after a minute or so of quiet contemplation.

“You’re a Spectre,” Garrus replied. “Secrecy is part of the job.”

“There’s that, yes.” Avitus sighed, his mandibles clicking lightly against his face. “I’d been meaning to speak to you after the sifting of candidates was over. To tell you in person that I consider you my preferred nominee.”

“Macen might have mentioned that along the way,” Garrus acknowledged in a soft voice, still not totally able to believe it.

“I’m not surprised,” Avitus said after a brief moment of contemplation. “He’s always been more willing to….lay things out in the open, as you could probably tell. To be more candid. That sort of attitude is harder for me.”

Garrus had indeed keyed to that fact, and didn’t have much in the way of a response to it. Eventually, Avitus continued on.

“It’s true, anyway. You’re the most logical choice, when taking everything into account. You’re young, yes, even younger than I was when my name was put forward. But that wasn’t why I was hesitating.”

Garrus’ thoughts hitched at the jarring whiplash in mood. First, he was beginning to believe he was all but locked in for the nomination. Now, Avitus was expressing a measure of doubt.

“Because I’m too much like Kyeros?” he asked in dejection. Avitus fixed a thoughtful look on him.

“Macen said that to you.”

“Yes.” Garrus looked away, feeling shame for a reason he couldn’t put words to.

“He’s too close to that situation to be entirely rational about it. No, that’s not it, and I disagree with him. I won’t say it would be an impossible outcome, but it’s not one that I’d waste any time worrying about. Quillan is…unreliable in the empathy department, ultimately. You don’t share that problem.”

As much as Garrus liked to hear it, there was a small part of him that was now taken by doubt, by the possibility that there was more to it than that. That Macen could still be more right than any of them knew.

“You have people who care for you, Garrus. And you care about them. I think that’s what saves you. But, unfortunately, that is also the reason being a Spectre might not be what you really want.”

Garrus’s eyes darted back to Avitus. “Sir, I want this more than anything, have wanted it since I was a young adolescent. Having important people in my life hasn’t changed that.”

“I think you can guess why it might,” Avitus’ dark eyes bore into him. And it came back around for him. Castis only seeing his mate and children maybe once a quarter for a week at a time. Avitus and Macen, probably even less than that. He thought about Shepard. He’d had the thought there, in the back of his mind. Whether they had real potential or not, and if so what the consequences would be if they both became Spectres. She’d been a step ahead of him already, he realized, and that was likely what she’d been meaning for them to discuss.

“I’d already been a Spectre for years when I met Macen,” Avitus’ voice was very soft now and halting. This was difficult for him, even with the acknowledgement that Garrus must already know. “Relationships weren’t a thing I had much use for before him. And normally, I wouldn’t have let things go as far as they have. But he slipped past my defenses like no one else ever could have. And before I knew it, we were past the event horizon. You, on the other hand, you have a choice. I can forewarn you what it’s like, but only you can decide if it’s ultimately worth it.”

They were both quiet for a good while as Avitus’ words hung in the air. 

“Do you ever regret it?” Garrus asked, not trying to be vague but somewhere knowing there were many facets to the question, all of which deserved an answer.

“Becoming a Spectre?” Avitus mused. “Some days. Being with Macen? Never. Does it hurt? Like an unimaginable, hellish torment, every single day I’m not with him.”

The raw, aching vulnerability of the statement hit Garrus center mas like a .50 caliber slug. It took him some indeterminate amougn of time to get his thoughts back on track.

“Then why not quit?” Garrus asked. Turian culture made it a given that you didn’t abandon your duty for anything, and ‘why’ wasn’t a question that tended to be asked about it. He already knew the answer as he asked. “Retire?”

“Macen has begged that of me more than once,” he replied. “To go be with him on Palaven. Especially after all of this. And I can’t claim that no part of me wants to, but every time, I tell him no. Because I didn’t become a Spectre lightly. I own my decisions, and I made this one before I knew him. He’s...it hurts him, too. _I_ hurt him, by dragging him through things like this.”

“He has a choice, too,” Garrus countered, but knowing he was also talking obliquely about Shepard. It took the agreement of both parties to maintain a pairing, a mateship.

“No,” Avitus replied, morose. “He doesn’t. We don’t. Not for years, now. We could choose to stop trying to make this work, true, but we couldn’t choose to not die a little from ending it. We couldn’t choose not to be every bit as afraid for one another’s wellbeing for the rest of our lives. That is the choice _you_ still have, Garrus. And maybe you’ll think that you can do better at it than I have, but odds are you won’t. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Neither of you.”

Garrus’s eyes locked on him. He swallowed hard. Avitus _knew_. He knew about Shepard, and what was blossoming between her and Garrus. He had assessed the evidence and was concerned that it was more than surface level. And he had the experience to know what that may look like from an outside perspective.

Garrus needed to talk to Shepard. Soon.


	26. Chapter 26

Shepard hadn’t been trying to dodge Garrus when she messaged him that she’d be busy for the rest of the evening, but she felt as guilty as if she were. She’d planted herself outside the main hallway to the Spectre wing, just to one side of a pillar, waiting. She busied herself making lists and collating the things she already knew into a secure file in her omnitool, glancing up every few minutes just in case. It took another hour or so before Saren emerged again. He didn’t appear to notice her, instead cutting a line straight through the sparse populace of the building back towards the Academy entrance, on his way out of the compound.

Shepard wasn’t entirely sure what had specifically motivated her to watch him, to see where he would go, or why he rubbed her so strongly the wrong way. There were plenty of immensely racist people out in the galaxy besides him, and she had to deal with them on a fairly regular basis. That bit was irritating, but nothing she wasn’t fairly well used to and certainly no reason on its own to feel suspicious about him. No, there was something else, she just couldn’t put her finger on what. Something in how Nihlus had reacted, in his timing in showing up here. She wandered over to the doors once he’d strode sufficiently distant in her vision, making a personal note on the shuttle in which he departed. It also came down to habit; being excessively aware of potential threats was a prudent action, no matter the situation. And this situation had been getting worse by the day. It was time to be proactive.

But what she really needed to do now, what she had been planning before ever setting eyes on Saren, involved seeing someone else she couldn’t wait to never have to deal with again. Vasir.

Her talk with Nihlus had stoked the fires of confidence in her new directive. Vasir was above her, technically. Was still her assigned ‘mentor’ even if the asari had done nothing whatsoever to help her on her at any point in time. But if there was one upside to not having made the woman’s nominee list, it was that she no longer had to be the least concerned that showing some attitude would hurt her chances of advancing. The one Spectre who mattered to Shepard’s nomination was Nihlus, and she’d just gotten done testing his patience to relatively positive results. Shepard had no more reason to play good, respectful soldier. And plenty of reasons not to.

Vasir wasn’t in her office, making tracking her down a bit of work. She finally got a tip from an asari passerby that the woman had gone to the nearby pool area. When Shepard finally found Vasir, she was speaking casually with a small handful of other asari. The women broke into a collective laugh together, and for a single fleeting moment Vasir almost seemed like a normal person. It lasted only until her eyes found Shepard on her approach. Then her face fell into the same ‘goddess, what now’ look that she seemed to have left reserved specifically for the N7. She waved off her flock, Shepard noticing briefly that it had included Ryssa, who gave her a timid look before scooting away back to the pool.

“Something you need?” Vasir asked, for all intents and purposes rhetorically.

“Just some advice,” Shepard tilted her head slightly and refused to break eye contact. “That’s what you’re supposed to be here for, isn’t it?”

“I’m here because I owed someone a favor, nothing more,” Vasir clarified in a deadpan.

“Right. In other words, that’s license not to fulfill the functions of your job?”

Vasir’s pupils shrank and her forehead wrinkled slightly. Shepard found it heavily satisfying to coax that sort of reaction out of her. The asari tilted her head forward at Shepard.

“That part of my job ended when we compiled our final nomination lists,” Vasir said. “Note that you’re not on mine.”

“Yeah, I noticed. But I think we both know if I had come to you a week or two ago, you’d be giving me some other excuse and brushing me off.” 

Vasir rolled her eyes. “Just tell me what you want so we can be over this tedium.”

“Great. Let’s start with getting down to exactly why you excluded me from your nominees, and what amazing feat of mental contortion led you to putting Temaru on it, instead.”

Vasir was doing her very best not to sneer. “I’m not under any sort of obligation to answer that. But,” she held up a hand, stopping Shepard just as she was opening her mouth, “I’ll humor you. Consider that the galaxy doesn’t revolve around you specifically, and that not everyone shares the lofty opinion you have of yourself. Also, I propose that there are advantageous qualities to other individuals that you are yourself unaware of. You and Temaru are very obviously mutually contentious, yes. Oil and water. But you taking exception to her her…excitable personality doesn’t mean she’s not qualified.”

“So you’re a hypocrite,” Shepard accused her. “You’re going to go ahead and claim that you’re not rejecting me based on your personal opinion of me, that somehow you want me to believe my merits don’t speak for themselves.”

“Is that what you think?” Vasir smirked and chuckled. “If there is anything I don’t like about you, believe me, there’s a reason for it. Or did you come to some conclusion that I was trying to pick on poor little orphan Shepard for no reason?”

Shepard had a fair recollection of a number of times she’d restrained herself from decking someone right in their mouth. Superior officers, fellow soldiers, at least one reporter. None had taken nearly so much willpower as this did right now. She could get away with being mouthy, not with open assault, regardless of having a damn good reason. Williams had been evidence enough of that. One day she’d need to go collect her Emmy for ignoring the personal slight and moving on. Or a Nobel Peace Prize.

“That woman is a nuclear meltdown waiting to happen,” Shepard replied. “And I cannot fathom a reality where you don’t realize that.”

“She’s got her issues,” Vasir relented but with nowhere near the gravity she should have given the subject. “I’ll grant you. But, _Miss_ Shepard, I assert that everything you hate about her are the exact same worst qualities about yourself. The way you enjoy thinking of yourself as more worthy or powerful than others. Your overinflated sense of self-righteousness. Your innate desire to be in control or in charge. The two of you share all of these things. The primary difference is that she’s perfectly aware of them, and doesn’t bother trying to hide it. She doesn’t care. It makes things much simpler when it comes to correcting her. What is that human saying, you have to admit you have a problem before you can do anything about it?”

“That’s rote bullshit,” Shepard snapped. “If you think any of that means you’re going to be able to keep her on a leash, you’re deluded.”

“You say that because _you_ couldn’t,” Vasir smiled silkily. “That doesn’t mean no one can. As I said, your capacity for self-awareness could use work. At any rate, I would have thought your little scrap with Quillan would have humbled you a little bit. Shame it didn’t.”

Bile started climbing up Shepard’s throat. Just when she’d begun to put that out of her mind, here Vasir came to rub it right back in her face. Her hands slowly curled, starting to make fists, but she pushed them back open again. Not only could she not punch her, she wouldn’t be able to punch her only once if she got started.

“I suppose you think Nika would have fared better than me in that situation, too.”

“This isn’t about her, sweetie,” Vasir cooed. “Goddess, you deflect like it’s your most basic instinct. But you know what? Sure, I actually do think so.”

_Only because she’s already as crazy as he’d been getting,_ Shepard thought. _It’s her default state, where Ky was just starting to fall into it._

“And if humanity were to get a Spectre on the roster, you’d want _her_ to fill that role,” Shepard spat. “To make a mockery out of both institutions.”

“I don’t think you should worry too much about that possibility,” Vasir almost sighed, sashaying closer, leaning up into Shepard’s face with a coy half smile. Her voice dipped into an amused whisper. “I don’t see it happening at all, to be brutally honest with you. But that _would_ be really funny, wouldn’t it? Sure wouldn’t help Earth’s chances at getting that Council seat they want so badly.”

Shepard’s stomach dropped as Vasir slithered away towards the doors. Had that been her game all this time? If it were, she wouldn’t have come right out and said so. Well. Maybe. The hell did Shepard know anymore? Maybe Vasir really was that untouchable. She was an asari, there was no telling how long she’d been playing the game, how much clout she’d built up for herself, how far the Council would go to take her side over anyone else’s. Over Shepard’s own word, that much was for damn sure.

Shepard grabbed herself a late dinner made up of mostly comfort foods and holed up in her room for the night. Garrus messaged her a good night some time later. He pointed out a window of time between their respective matches the next day when they could talk. He was biting at that bit, now, and she couldn’t blame him. She sighed out her exasperation, responded positively to the message, and rubbed at her face.

Things could never just be simple.

\-----

Shepard’s first scheduled match was mid-morning the next day, and was taking place within one of the frequently reconstructed enclosed arenas. The schedule’s description text detailed that everyone would be facing a selection of their peers in a series of elimination-style matchups. There was a side note stating that candidates were welcome to spectate at one another’s matches, meaning that not only would they be finally hashing things out soon, but that he’d get to see her performance firsthand, and then she could reciprocate. No big deal. No pressure. Yeah.

The matches would be arena-style like most of Stage One’s challenges, but now the procedures were simpler and boiled down to one objective: beat your single opponent. Except this time, there would be obstacles by way of handicaps. Shepard and her soon to be rival had been called in, and Maerun explained to the both of them that Shepard was disallowed use of her biotics, and Janen her use of her tech abilities. Breaking the temporary restriction meant an automatic disqualification and recorded loss. They were also each given a stripped down firearm of their respective proficiencies rather than being allowed to use their own gear.

“A win will be declared when there is only one of you left. If neither of you prevails within the time frame, the competitor in better ‘health’ will be declared the winner, albeit at an overall score penalty. If by chance neither of you scores any hit on your opponent in the time frame, a tie will be declared and neither of you will be considered a victor. Zero-zero. Questions?”

Neither woman spoke up. The quarian turned and held out a hand to Shepard, mildly surprising her since that was a primarily human custom. She regretted not knowing the quarian equivalent as to reciprocate good sportsmanship, instead giving her a hearty grip to demonstrate her returned respect. Shepard was led down a narrow hallway to the opposite end of the arena; it was a similar ship mockup to the one they’d faced off in once before. This would actually be their third time going head to head, though the first between only the pair of them. That was a little awkward, Shepard realized, thinking about how very quickly their latest scuffle had ended. She’d even used Janen’s gun on her teammates afterward. The quarian’s noble, emotional restraint was admirable as all hell.

At the sound of the buzzer, Shepard darted into the darkened corridors of the simulated light frigate ship. It looked to be an asari style design this time, unfamiliar to both women and placing them both at another slight disadvantage. But Janen would know ships in general better, and have an edge there. Shepard used her omnitool’s scanner a few times over the course of a few minutes without luck, then resolved to slinking through as silently as possible until she picked up any sign of her opponent.

As she moved forward attempting to minimize the clacking sound of her boots on the flooring, she noticed something strange. There was an arrow lightly scratched into the floor right in the middle of what she was assuming was the CIC. Shepard was unsure as to whether it might have been left there previously by another competitor, or what other reason it could possibly have for being there. Then as she inched carefully forward in her crouch, her ears picked up the slightest ‘ping’ noise from above on a walkway railing. She raised her rifle, seeing nothing on the walkway. But then, a bolt hit the floor at her feet. A shadow shifted from behind the walkway. Shepard turned off her external helmet flights and let her eyes focus.

Janen was there, facing directly at Shepard, but very distinctly not firing. She could have dropped Shepard right then and there, and yet she hadn’t. She instead raised a finger to the mouthpiece of her helmet, another distinctly human gesture but one Shepard cued into instantly. Janen held up her fingers, using both hands at once with her rifle set across her knees. One, then six, then three- it took Shepard a few seconds to realize the woman was relaying the number for a comm channel. Shepard’s eyes widened, but she’d gotten the message. She slid down along the bulkhead as though she hadn’t seen the quarian, switching to the channel the woman had indicated. Janen must have figured out on her own that they were being listened to on the standard comm.

“Shepard,” Janen’s distinctive accent said in a brisk whisper. “I have to tell you something.”

“Janen. You had me dead to rights.”

“This is that important. I-“

“We could have just met up somewhere, off-compound. What are you thinking?”

“No. We need to not be seen together. Just listen, they’ll be able to hack into this channel within a few minutes if they want. I was doing some research, about what we talked about. I was checking out the Spectre’s private servers-”

“You can do that?”

“Shush! And yes. That’s the point. I _shouldn’t_ have been able to. But after doing some digging in the code, I found a back door someone left in the system.”

“Someone like one of us? Another candidate?” Shepard jerked up and aimed her rifle at nothing, pretending to have thought she’d detected movement.

“No,” Janen insisted, and Shepard watched her slink past toward another ‘hiding’ spot. “That’s the point. Someone like a Spectre. It was hard coded in, all it took was using a program to guess the passcode.”

“Any thoughts on why another Spectre wouldn’t have found it?”

“You wouldn’t unless you were specifically looking for that kind of weakness. If they trusted whoever they put in charge of their security, and why wouldn’t they, then they wouldn’t bother looking.”

“I’m really starting to have lots of questions about the way Spectres go about things.” Shepard took a poorly aimed shot in Janen’s direction the next time she spotted her, deliberately going wide. Janen fired back, and Shepard ducked behind a bulkhead.

“That’s the thing. We don’t know who is behind their security. I’d presume that it’s one of the Spectres here, but it might not be. No way to know.”

Shepard almost forgot herself a moment, staring into space nefore Janen’s jerking gun barrel reminded her to move. The stakes had just leveled up, in a big way. There was either a mole among the Spectres themselves, or someone the Council had trusted was working against them. 

“What’s the end goal?” Shepard asked. “What could someone do with that information?”

“Take a peek at Spectre internal communications, read any candidate’s comprehensive profile, just about anything they wanted to, really,” Janen said with a huff. She was climbing, probably on the ladder just down the east hallway. “I didn’t stay in too long myself in case I was noticed, but there’s a lot. And who knows who else has found it. If I did, I’m sure a lot of our peers could.”

“Or have,” Shepard replied. Kyeros would have been capable of accessing it; his tech skills were only barely second to his combat skills. The possibilities there were...disturbing, considering what he’d come to believe about her.

Shepard thought about Nihlus. She could tell him about this, if she chose. Considering how she’d confronted him yesterday she thought she very well should. Particularly considering something as significant as this. But…he’d told her he didn’t know why Kyeros had targeted her. It was suddenly possible that he might have lied to her. She wasn’t largely convinced that he had, but there was enough doubt there to give her pause. And considering some of the company he apparently kept, even if he was trustworthy, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t unintentionally relay this information to someone who wasn’t. The irony wasn’t lost on her that he was currently thinking the same thing of Shepard.

“Precisely. I’m going to-” Janen said, then there was an almost inaudible sort of fuzzy ‘click’. “Kee’lah,” she hissed instead, and switched away from the channel. The quarian’s earlier warning had come to fruition. Someone on the outside of the match had picked up on their scheme and taken initiative by hacking the auxiliary channel. Considering the conversation the two women had just had, it could have been for nefarious reasons, or it could simply be the action of a suspicious staff member. Shepard shut her comm down entirely, making a final go for where Janen was. They had under five minutes left and needed to wrap this up.

Janen had left her a few nasty surprises in the form of hidden sim mines rigged to a trip wire, but they were comparatively haphazard, like the quarian wasn’t really trying all that hard. Shepard got by them as easily as taking cover during a too-long delay. This time when she got the quarrian in her sights, she didn’t deliberately miss. She held some remorse for winning the ensuing gunfight, but Janen didn’t seem all that put out in the locker room afterward. They both actively avoided continuing their earlier conversation.

“You could have come out on top in there with just a few adjustments,” Shepard said, putting the borrowed shotgun back into its storage locker. She wanted the quarian to know she’d noticed the half-assery in her performance. Janen’s glowing eyes lingered on her.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Janen replied quietly. “No one’s going to make a quarian a Spectre, even if I am good enough. And I know I am.”

“They might,” Shepard offered. She’d been carrying a deep concern about the same outcome for herself. To try and assure her even more sidelined peer otherwise felt disingenuous.

“They won’t,” Janen’s voice fell and she slowly packed away her few things. “I _know_ they won’t.”

It sank in. Janen was certain about what she was saying. She had to have stumbled across something during her dive into the Spectres’ database that had spelled the end for her. Janen was living what for Shepard was a possible, though unlikely, worst case scenario.

“You’re staying anyway?” Shepard prodded softly. Encouragement as much as a question. Janen was, if nothing else, proving herself to be a force to be reckoned with and an invaluable ally, and it wasn’t her fault it wasn’t being recognized.

“Of course,” she replied. “I won’t let them take the easy way out by quitting. Besides, I’ve already talked to a few others about it and I’m sure I can get on someone else’s team, at least. It won’t be all for nothing.”

“I know you will,” Shepard reinforced her confidently, then paused, dropping her voice again. “Think we’ll have any opportunity to _chat_ again?”

“I’ll try, but no promises,” Janen said, a little louder and before Shepard had finished her sentence. She slung a bag over her back and left in a hurry. Shepard sat there in the empty stillness of the locker room, arms slung over her knees and slouching forward. With everything going on the way it was, if she didn’t come out a Spectre after all of this she was going to be pissed. She was already doing their collective job in investigating the tangled web of intrigue going on here. At the same time, her illusions about what being a Spectre was even about were being thoroughly dispelled. It was like when one became an adult, and eventually realized none of the other adults had all that great a handle on things. Everyone was really just winging it, some just had better luck than others.

Except these people were supposed to be acting in the interests of the entire damn galaxy.

Once she exited the locker room, Garrus was already there, patiently waiting. She stopped short, realizing she’d forgotten their agreement completely in the face of what had just gone down. She went for her bearings, having to rapidly switch gears back to what they’d been meaning to get out of the way. Then, later, she could tell him all about everything else. She was looking forward to actually working together with someone on this. To working specifically with him. Nihlus didn’t have to trust him; Shepard did.

“Garrus,” she smiled at him through the mental wear.

“Shepard,” he replied, bemused. “Your match was…interesting.”

She contemplated how that whole show must have looked to spectators. A couple of oblivious searchers fumbling around in the dark, continually missing one another by centimeters. Then suddenly, all out combat ending within thirty seconds.

“I’ll explain later,” she promised, lifting a hand and gesturing down the pathway. They could talk as she headed back to her room. She had just enough time to shower before hitting up Garrus’ first match if they kept moving. “I’m guessing you’re as ready to get this over with as I am.”

“You could say that, I guess,” Garrus replied, sounding inexplicably uncomfortable. “I just…I have to tell you something.”

Shepard’s instinct was to stop and look at him. To find his eyes, to give his words the attention his tone conveyed that they deserved. She didn’t.

“Shoot.”

“….what?”

“It means go ahead,” Shepard clarified.

“Oh. Right. I thought it- never mind. Listen, I know this will sound premature, but everything else aside, it’s all but certain that Avitus is going to put my name forward. This…this is happening for me. And that’s likely going to affect how the rest of this goes, so I needed you to know.”

He was staring at her as he said it. And she kept her focus straight ahead. It took her a decent application of effort to register what he was saying, what he was communicating to her beneath the words. He wasn’t just thinking about the next few weeks. He was thinking beyond that. Their combined future, what ultimately became of them, _mattered_ to him.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Same here, but with Nihlus.”

“You’re…Nihlus?” he asked, confusion rising in his voice. “Why him?”

Shepard’s nape prickled at the way he'd reacted. “Why not?”

“I thought Vasir was your mentor?”

“She is in a very loose sense of the word. But she’s not who nominated me. Why does it matter that Nihlus did?”

Shepard finally shot a look his direction, and he turned his face away. “It’s…nothing.”

She stopped, and after the lag of recognizing that she had, so did Garrus.

“It’s definitely not _nothing_ ,” Shepard stated. Garrus’s lost eyes scanned her face in a mild panic.

“Shepard. I- it’s not…I was only trying to understand. I knew he’d favored you, from the day we met. I wasn’t sure why, that’s all. I’m sure I was wrong.”

“Wrong about _what_?” Shepard demanded, figuratively cornering him. “Be straight with me.”

Garrus was frozen, his pupils shrunk to points.

“I only…for a little while there, I thought he was…well. The two of you were spending a lot of time together, and I…I didn’t know why, and I didn’t want to ask.”

Her stomach went cold. The insinuation was like a knife in the ribs, especially coming from him. Now she knew he’d noticed her frequent visits with the Spectre, and had made a galling presumption about them. The one factor to his credit was that she actually was doing something ith Nihlus she hadn’t told him about, couldn’t properly set him straight on without defying Nihlus. She had felt bad about it. _Had_.

“It couldn’t be because of my _merits_ ,” Shepard glowered, her tone gravelly. “It couldn’t be because he’s the _only_ Spectre who was willing to put his neck out for a human like me. No, it had to be because I'm sleeping with him, or he wants me to. Is that it?”

“ _No_!” Garrus protested emphatically. “No, that’s not it at all-”

“But it _was_.”

Garrus was silent for a long moment. Too long. Shepard registered a wetness burning at the corners of her eyes that she instantly raged against. Damn it all. She liked him, maybe something more than casual affection. This had been meant to be the discussion where they worked out what things looked like going forward, if they wanted to keep trying past the end of their time at the Academy. And now this.

“Shepard-” he started to plead. She didn’t wait around for it. She knew, she _knew_ expressing his thoughts and feelings into words was something Garrus wasn’t always great at. But that didn’t apply here. And it fucking hurt. Dammit, this was why she’d always avoided entanglements like this. What had she even been thinking?

She made her way back to her room. She needed to get changed out. She had an impulse date with a heavy bag.


	27. Chapter 27

And.

He’d done it again.

_Fantastic job handling that, Garrus. Mom would be proud, and not whatsoever humiliated by her idiot son._

Garrus was a half hour early at the arena lobby, giving him lots of time to think over how badly he’d mishandled things this time. They’d been so _close_. All he’d had to do was keep his mouth shut about Nihlus. Why had he reacted like that? He had never had any actual reason to suspect any impropriety between her and the Spectre. Nothing but his own ridiculous insecurities, a moment of irrationality and fear.

Maybe...it was for the best. She was going to be a Spectre, in all likelihood, just like him. Even if they’d kept things together, if he hadn’t screwed this up, they’d rarely if ever see one another after that. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

As the start time drew closer, he desperately willed himself to empty his mind of all but what was important right now. He had a match to win. Being the presumed favorite for a nomination would mean nothing if he didn’t keep his performance up to justify it.

Avitus arrived, to Garrus’ surprise. He was moving slowly and being careful of his balance, but walking under his own power. He was back to his no-nonsense incarnation, telling Garrus that he wouldn’t be allowed to use any of his tech abilities and that he’d be leaving his longrifle behind in exchange for an Academy-issued assault rifle. He and his opponent would be using only basic weaponry and their own cunning this time around, and the win would come down to who adapted better to the restrictions. 

It was depressingly poetic, putting his sniper rifle back in its case. Like losing one of the best things about himself. He could still do this, but he wasn’t going to be happy about it.

“Oh. It’s you,” snarked a feminine voice. Nika sauntered into view, her eyes flickering over him with an unimpressed sort of expression. “Here they had me going that this was going to be difficult.”

She was carrying the same basic model of assault rifle that he’d been given, and wearing what looked mostly like her usual armor. He thought her greaves might have been a different style, though he couldn’t fully recall. Garrus took notice of the shining, pristine helmet in her hands. The replacement that she’d come into awfully quickly. She’d had it as far back as the jungle course, but he hadn’t had the chance to make the comment he’d wanted to. Now was the perfect opportunity. She wanted to smack talk? He could smack talk, and she’d caught him in the wrong mood.

“New helmet, huh,” Garrus retorted. “Hope it holds up better than your last. If you’re not using the old one, I have some room on my wall for a trophy.”

Her eyes widened and her glare intensified, but an unsettling grin split across her face. Game on.

“Big talk for a sniper without his special gun,” her voice twisted into a coy taunt. “Must be so hard for you. Did your daddy leave it to you, I mean, after he got all _ganked_?”

Garrus’ hands suddenly tightened on his firearm. His sniper rifle hadn’t, in fact, come to him by way of Castis, though the expertise in how to wield it had. But the big takeaway was that a certain someone had done her research and come prepared to get in his head. Or, as her earlier threat on his life echoed back into his mind, she might have started out researching him for other reasons. He wouldn’t put it past her. Her laser-guided mockery didn’t surprise him, even if it enraged him.

“No,” he growled in return. “I don’t know who pays for _your_ gear, but some of us earn our own way. Must be a foreign concept to you.”

She grinned more, skating past his commentary like she hadn’t even heard it. Like she had her script cued up and ready, and nothing he could say would touch her. “Well _that’s_ just too bad. I’ll bet it would have been nice to have something like that to remember him by. Since. You know...”

Suddenly, she grabbed at her throat, making a gurgling sound and sticking her tongue out comically, her eyes rolling back in her head. She fell back into the wall behind her, sliding down until she’d crumpled into a slumped-over, limp position, gasping out one last, extended breath. Not a perfect depiction how he’d found his dad, but gut-wrenchingly close enough that it took him back there for a half second. A half second too long. Her gurgles gave away into a long, self-satisfied giggle as she turned her sparkling, delighted eyes on him and climbed back to her feet like she’d made a hilarious joke, and why wasn’t he laughing?

Something deep and dark and cold manifested in his chest, his finger twitching towards the panel where he could change the gun’s setting to live fire, his other finger pressing hard against the trigger guard. Garrus’ vision took on a blue tinge. The human guys in C-Sec had had a term for a similar phenomenon- ‘seeing red’. Humans blood was red, so it made sense. Nika would bleed red. For a second an unbidden image of a red-spattered room filled his mind. Not that it didn’t mollify him at least a little, but the last vestiges of reason were trying to get it through to him that this was exactly the reaction she’d been going for. He didn’t want that to matter. He wanted to give her what she was asking for.

Garrus fought free of his momentary lapse in control. No. He wasn’t going to be her puppet.

“You’re pathetic,” he rumbled at her, unhappy that nothing more biting or clever was coming immediately to mind to obfuscate the fact that she’d successfully gotten to him.

“Your _dad_ was pathetic,” she laughed again. “C-Sec vet who walked his ass right into an ambush? Pfft. He had that coming. Idiot.”

_I hope you make Spectre,_ Garrus thought to himself while making the last adjustments to his visor, refusing her any more verbal repartee. _I hope you get there, and make the mess of it I know you will, so that one day I get to be the one who takes you out_.

“Weren’t you C-Sec, too?” she asked again through the dead air, in a perfectly innocent affectation. “Where were you when he needed you, anyway?”

His resolve almost slipped. Might have been _just_ about to slip as he turned a deadly glare on her. But the buzzer rang out and a door opened, a staff member beckoning for her to head to the other side of the enclosed match space. It might have saved her wellbeing, and his career. She waved back at him with her fingers and then kissed her hand, then laid her palm flat upwards, directed at him, and blew air across it. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. She vanished into the thin, dark hallway. In a few more minutes, he’d be stalking her. It wouldn’t be near as satisfying as the real thing, but he’d have his chance to put her down at least in simulation. She’d been trying to throw him off, but now, he was more focused than ever.

Garrus was only barely aware of when the signal to enter the match flashed in his HUD. He moved into the winding maze of corridors and small stairways like a ghost. He wasn’t just on the hunt for some nasty, callous human. He was stalking Kishpaugh, as well. And every other perp who’d ever successfully evaded justice right in front of him. Every bullet was going to be a silicone slug, but he would at least enjoy some small bit of release from peppering his prey with them until the golden-orange death glow manifested over her. He might let up off the trigger then, he might not.

He didn’t see her for the first several minutes. So, she wasn’t completely stupid. On occasion he would hear her moving, adjust his focus, and wait until he had a better lock on where she was headed. She didn’t have the technical skills to be laying traps, though she might have regular old grenades at her disposal. Without being allowed to use her biotics, she was going to have to stay out of his reach in order to win, and that was going to be a task on a time limit and with her being the significantly poorer shot.

The wall exploded with a sharp clang next to his head, and he jerked back.

No, he realized in the next half-second. Three impacts. Burst fire. The wall next to where his face had been was dented; she was relatively close, and he hadn’t seen her. Damn it. Reflexively calculating the trajectory, he spun and fired back. Nika ducked down behind the raised walkway she’d been using as cover barely in time to avoid him. She wasn’t more than ten meters away; she should have had him dead to rights. Or close enough that she could have unloaded on him for the kill before he’d gotten enough return fire on her to steal the win back. 

Who was pathetic now?

He lunged for her, grabbing the rails and clearing the raised stairway in a single leap as she spun and fled.

_Yes_ , a pleased feeling warmed the natural predator in him. _Run_.

He was closing the gap when she hit the floor in a slide, slipping down into a rectangular gap in the floor. A vent. She was small enough to hide in the vents. He roared and fired a barrage down after her, none of the shots registering as a hit in his HUD. His visor lit up for him the most probable end point of the vent, and gave chase.

Then he slid to a halt. No, stop. Don’t follow her. That was her plan, to keep him going where she wanted him to go. He needed to be playing to _his_ advantages, which she’d deftly gotten him to abandon. Nika knew she couldn’t take him in a straight up brawl. She was no Shepard. So that kind of confrontation was what he needed to force.

Garrus kept his rifle trained in the same direction just in case, but stepped backwards until he could take cover behind a low wall and ducked down. He surveyed his surroundings far later than he should have been, putting together a picture in his mind of everywhere he’d already been. He paradoxically needed to be out in a more open space, somewhere he had a corner from which he could observe all attack vectors at once. And he found it. It wasn’t ideal; he would have to wait on one of those corner stairways and wouldn’t have much in the way of cover besides a small crate. He’d be vulnerable. But he’d almost certainly see her before she could get a shot off, and his aim was magnitudes better. She’d almost surely get closer for a better chance to hit him, and he could feign not seeing her until it was too late. Until she was close enough that he’d take her out melee style instead. He’d like that.

“Hey, Vakarian,” her dulcet voice sang over the comm. “Like I said. _Real_ sorry about your dad.”

A poor attempt at shaking him again. He was in control, and she wasn’t going to wrest it from him.

“Sure,” he snarled back, sinking behind a crate. It wasn’t large enough to conceal him entirely, but he wanted her to know where he was. “You too. Real sorry about the brain damage. I mean, assuming it was distinguishable from before-”

He was struck hard from above. She had found some vent that had gone up into the ceiling and dropped down, landing square on top of him. One arm hooked around his neck, the other raised her gun to his head. Well, he’d been right that she’d have to get close.

He lashed out at her rifle’s barrel, knocking it up and to the right before she could get the point-blank headshot she’d been going for. He spun hard left, throwing her off into a wall where she made a satisfying huff. Her gun bounced down the stairway. She didn’t have a chance to get to it before he unloaded a whole heat sink’s worth of ammo into her armor. She’d taken a big risk, and botched it. He raised his rifle, savoring the moment.

“Well that was pointless, huh.” he growled through a low smile.

“Was it, though?” she half-panted, half moaned at him vaguely from the floor, slowly lifting herself up onto her feet.

“Any last words?” he asked. She was properly cornered. This was going to feel great.

“None for me, nah,” she smiled. “You?”

_Beep. Beep Beee-_

Crap.

He snatched the adhesive mine off his back and threw it. The simmed detonation took place barely a meter from his hand, out in the open air. The damage to his shields registered; they were almost gone. Nika was up on him, grabbing his rifle in her hands and using it as leverage to whip her legs upward. Her kick hit him hard in the helmet, but was only hard enough to throw him off balance a moment. Her base strength was laughable. He thrashed her about until her grip loosened. He threw her, sending her skidding along the floor. He wasn’t making the same mistake twice. He raised his rifle and fired.

And red blood spattered from her shoulder and upper arm as his burst fire connected. Live fire. Nika screamed in shock and pain, grabbing at her pauldron as the warm liquid oozed from between her gauntlet’s fingers.

Garrus’ first shocked reaction was that this situation had very almost been much worse. He hadn’t been aiming for her head, not yet, and her armor had taken most of the damage. If he’d still been on his non-lethal ammo it would have taken another couple of burst fire shots to finish her off. His barrel bucked up and away from her, then he turned it over to check the settings. He _knew_ he’d had it set to non-lethal, but it wasn’t now. He hadn’t actually accidentally switched it in his quiet rage, had he?

“What the _fuck_ , you asshole?” she shrieked. “Again?!”

An alarm was sounding, he realized. It had blended so well with her screams it had taken him a moment to hear it. Staff came running in, hauling her up and stripping off her helmet and damaged armor, inspecting her wounds and rapidly applying medigel. Garrus backed away slowly in numb disbelief. He’d actually shot her. She may well have been dead right now if he’d taken a headshot. Not that he actually regretted shooting her, if he had to be honest. The worst of his instincts insisted she’d deserved it. But now his future was flashing before his eyes. Other candidates had been ejected for less.

“Vakarian,” Avitus’ steely voice brought him back. He shook his head violently at his mentor.

“I didn’t do this,” Garrus protested, panicked. “Not on purpose. I _wouldn’t_.”

There was the faintest falsehood in his statement. Not twenty minutes ago, this was exactly what he’d wanted to do, and worse. But he did possess _some_ level of restraint. He was better than this. Avitus had to know that, from his own experience and the evidence. From the fact that Garrus had immediately about-faced the instant it had happened rather than follow through. The older man held out his hands, and Garrus dutifully passed off the rifle for inspection. As Avitus opened the gun’s display, Garrus’ attention tracked to where the staff were helping walk Nika towards the hallway to the clinic. Her head turned, and she sent a vitriolic glare his way. But then her expression slowly morphed into something else. Calm. Then contentment. Then she _smiled_ , baring her teeth.

Then she disappeared through the open doorway.

She’d done it herself. _She’d done it herself._ When she’d grabbed his rifle, she’d had to have done something to alter his ammo settings, an insanely difficult maneuver, but plausible. But...why? She could have been dead just now. She’d taken a huge gamble, especially after knowingly working him up to a desire for violence and retaliation. Was she really _that_ crazy? Was that even possible?

So crazy, that he didn’t think anyone would believe him if he told them.

“Vakarian,” Avitus said, his voice softening. “What’s your read on this?”

“I...I don’t know,” Garrus lied. But Rix stared at him in such a way that said the older man had picked up on it.

“But you have a theory. Speak your mind.”

Garrus sucked in a breath. “Nika could have done it, while she had my rifle in her grasp. I can’t speak as to _why_ she’d have done it, except possibly to set me up.”

And there were easier, less deadly ways of accomplishing that.

The other man scanned Garrus a moment, then went back to the rifle again. If it had been a more advanced model or had certain mods, they could have known exactly when the setting had been changed. Most firearms used in the field were actually keyed to a specific user to prevent just that sort of thing from happening. Not so, here, for a gun meant to be used by anyone. 

“I’ll be discussing this with my colleagues,” Avitus informed him, his tone not whatsoever adversarial, as Garrus had feared it would be. “You’re clear to go, Vakarian.”

That had gone better than he’d expected. Now if only he could fix things with Shepard. He wished she was here, to analyze the situation with. To feel comforted just by her presence. She wasn’t going to want to hear from him now, or for a while. 

Garrus was coming out into the hallway when someone grabbed him. Maybe not the best idea; he lashed out, just about clipping Kandros across the head with an elbow. She yelped and parried him with a forearm, pushing back against him.

“Spirits, Vakarian!” she hissed. “It’s me!”

“Sorry,” he replied quickly, raising his hands in apology. “Sorry. I’m just…”

“On edge about what happened in the arena?” she more than finished his thought. “Yeah, I was here, I saw. That’s what I was coming to talk to you about.”

Garrus frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s something you should know,” Kandros said, voice regretful. “A few things, actually. Starting with I think that Nika messed with your rifle.”

“Yeah,” Garrus replied. “I worked that one out. It’s just going to be hard to prove.”

“You’re right, there,” Kandros nodded. “But there’s more. I only just put it all together myself. Come on.”

She dragged him back to their building, not saying anything all along the way. They got a few looks that Garrus barely registered. His eyes caught Shepard’s building for one painful, regretful moment as they passed it. They got back to Garrus’ room, and Kandros checked the halls quickly before pulling up her omnitool at the door.

“Remember the mixer?”

Garrus tried not to. “Sure. What-”

“Good. I don’t like talking about this, so I won’t do it twice. Nika, Ryssa and I came back here while you guys were still out. You probably already guessed that.”

Garrus looked away, stomach twisting awkwardly. “I hadn’t thought about it, but go ahead.”

“I was pretty drunk, as I’ve said before, and I didn’t have eyes on Nika the whole time. It was just Ryssa and me for a little-”

“I _get_ it.”

“It’s relevant, Garrus. Anyway, after you told us about the door and the device, it did occur to me that I’d brought them up here some time after that had happened. And then when that thing happened with Ky’s gun, I thought about it again. But I didn’t think Nika would have had the know-how to do something like that. Watching your match, now I think she _does_.”

Garrus frowned as the door slid open, stopping halfway and a handful of lights blinking on. Maintenance mode. 

“Changing a setting is a little different from being able to disassemble a custom, modded rifle and hide something in it.”

“Yes, but the fact is she wouldn’t have been able to pull off what she did if she wasn’t _very_ familiar with how to do it, quickly. I get it’s a little bit of a reach, but we’re just getting started. Follow me here. She forces her way in, familiarizes herself with our room, and where Kyeros’s stuff is. But she does it quickly, in and out, so she’s not seen. Gets a quick scan of his rifle, for research purposes. Later, she comes up with me and Ryssa, maybe that’s when she messes with his rifle, while I’m...distracted.”

Garrus frowned, then his brow plates raised. “You think the two of them were working together?”

“I...don’t know that much yet,” Kandros hesitated. “Nika could have just been using her, the way she treats Ryssa that’s my guess. But it’s definitely possible that she’s only one of a few people all working together. That would make the most sense with- hah. There. Now we know exactly when it happened. You were right, though, it definitely wasn’t just some malfunction, it was forced open. We can start putting a timeline together now. If only we had access to the building cameras, then we could even put her here at the same time.”

Garrus glanced over her shoulder at her display, taking in the information, the gears turning over as he shook his head. The pieces were starting to finally fit, and Kandros had just given him several more he’d been missing.

“It was her,” he said. “The one doing everything Kyeros thought Shepard was doing, he just made the same assumption we did that she wasn’t capable enough to do it. An act. It’s all been an act, or most of it. She can turn it on and off at will, making herself look like a victim or bystander while obfuscating what she’s really doing.”

“The big question left is, what _is_ she really doing?” Kandros sighed, standing and re-setting the door, both of them heading into his room while it closed behind them. “She hits all the clues, but we still have no motive. Nothing she’s done has really accomplished anything.”

Garrus snorted. “It’s divided us, made people turn on one another. Knowing her, it could be basic, petty vengeance, or maybe sadism. Her sowing chaos for no other reason than she enjoys it, or she maybe thinks it betters her own chances somehow.”

“But we _don’t_ know her,” Kandros pointed out. “You said that yourself. I think with what we know now, it would be a mistake to keep underestimating her. I mean, she made you _shoot_ her. She could be insane, or it could be that her ulterior motive was worth that risk.”

“Or both,” he sighed. “But you’re right. At least now we actually have enough to go on to start being more proactive. We should do everything we can to keep an eye on her in our free time. Maybe we can recruit some of the others who are in the know to help, since we can’t be everywhere at once, particularly now.”

“Right,” Kandros nodded curtly, going for the door. “I’ll be in a match with Leyene tomorrow, I can talk to her then, and any of the others I see around. You should definitely catch Shepard up, too.”

“Yeah,” he replied, then after the door closed, “...Shepard.”


	28. Chapter 28

Shepard was stewing. 

It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten caught up in some ill-fated coupling, but for most of them the end had come sweeping in with a definitive ‘meh.’ Not like this. She had just begun to think this one might turn out differently, take her by surprise and end up being the exception she wondered whether she’d ever experience in her life. Instead, he was just like the rest of them. Everyone else who, despite everything she’d had to claw her way up to accomplish, ended up dismissing her achievements. Dismissing her as a person. It had irritated her coming from people like Vasir. It had devastated her coming from Garrus.

Day two of almost continuous physical training, and her omnitool pinged a message notification. The uncharitable nickname she’d assigned the hapless turian a few days prior popped up in the sender heading, and she opened it up.

**Can we talk?**

She chugged down a whole water bottle almost violently and glared at the message, scanning it over and over even though the words kept meaning the same thing. She dropped herself heavily on a nearby bench, wondering what level of petty she wanted to be in her response. She also didn’t want to respond too quickly and make him think she’d been waiting for him to reach out. Finally she started typing on the holographic keyboard display.

**We tried that. Didn’t go great. Remember?**

She got back up and put in about twenty more cleans to compensate for the surge of angry energy before her tool pinged again. That was that. He’d definitely been stewing. That pleased the pettiness. She did the rest of her reps before going back to the conversation.

**I do. I’m kind of begging for a chance to at least apologize and make things right.**

Shepard sighed. His stark contrition went right to the center of her chest, threatening to turn down the head on her anger. Dammit. But she wasn’t sure just yet if she was ready to forgive him, or wanted to. And she was less interested than ever in having endless talks or playing little off-again, on-again games.

**That depends. What’s the objective?**

Shepard draped a towel over her head and wiped her face down. She planted herself on a bench, willing herself not to open her messages to search for a reply that hadn’t shown up yet. It seemed to take forever before she heard the chime again. 

**I don’t want to leave this where it’s at. I want to try and fix things, if I can. If you’re okay with it.**

Shepard went through a number of reactions in a short space of time. But before she could reply, a follow-up message popped up.

**And there are some other things we should probably go over, however everything else works out. It’s that important.**

Shepard had heard about his match; it was hard to have not, the way word of it had spread like wildfire. There were at least six or seven different permutations of the account, just based on what she’d heard at different times. She’d almost reached out, asked him for the truth of the matter, but ultimately backed out. She did wish she’d been there to see Nika get a tiny bit of comeuppance.

**Where do you want to do this?** she typed. 

**I can meet you wherever you want.**

There was a definite part of her that didn’t want to meet him anywhere. It was rare that she fell back on the ‘flight’ end of her ‘fight or flight’ instincts, but it was just as rare for her to have let herself be so vulnerable to someone. She hadn't even realized it until the other day, that she’d messed up and gotten it bad for him.

**I’m at the gym. By the heavy bag.**

There was a longer break until the next message, allowing her to believe that he did know how to pick up on a hint after all. But eventually he did get back to her, right about the time she’d actually gotten wraps on her hands and started in on the bag. She’d been at it hard enough the last few days that her knuckles were aching and sore, but she popped some analgesics every few hours and ignored it.

**On my way.**

She didn’t start in as hard as she could, giving herself time to warm up into it. Her muscles complained that she’d been overusing them. They could shut up. She’d just sunk herself into her zone when Garrus had arrived, and she didn’t see him until he’d cautiously approached her. She didn’t stop what she was doing.

“Talk.”

Garrus stepped forward, gripping the bag by the other side and steadying it while she laid into it. Not his best choice with her in the frame of mind she was in, though there was some subtext to it that Shepard couldn’t help but notice.

“I messed up.”

“Yep,” she agreed, not missing a beat of her routine. She lobbed timed hooks and haymakers for several seconds, followed by several more seconds of rapid fire jabs.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “I never actually thought...that. About you. I was scared.”

Shepard started her faster punching a little sooner than usual. “Scared,” she echoed, her tone conveying that she wasn’t convinced. That had been his excuse the last time, too.

“My mind went someplace strange, where I started to worry I had competition. And that if I did, there was no way I’d measure up. It wasn’t at all what I made it sound like.”

Shepard finally stopped, panting, and grabbed her towel. “You sounded like a dick.”

“Yes,” he acknowledged, stepping back from the back and taking up a strategic position not too close to her personal space.

“I started with nothing, Garrus,” she finally said. “I’m from Mindoir. You heard of it?”

“I...think so?” he responded. “Some Batarian slavers hit it a few years ago.”

His brow plates raised slightly as the realization started to sink in before she even elaborated. Which she did anyway.

“Nine years, four months, a week and two days ago. I was a farm girl. Never afraid of hard work. The only gun I’d ever held was a shotgun for dealing with these rodent things that...never mind. The point is, one day some Batarians think, hey, these guys would make some good slave labor. Except we fought back. Hard. But they had armor, and ships, and guns. We had a shotgun. One.”

Garrus’ head was tilted down and away. He was listening, and clearly not enjoying what he was hearing, but was respectful enough not to interrupt her.

“There was this one Alliance attachment that hung out in orbit, but we were such a low priority that it wasn’t more than a platoon. Against a couple of hundred batarians. They got pinned down quick, nothing they could do but watch what was happening for the most part. Eventually I got far enough away that this lieutenant, Zabaleta, was able to come reinforce my position. I didn’t know it until a while later, but every person I ever grew up knowing was dead by then, or taken. I was sixteen, and I had to start my life over. With nothing. And no one.”

She let that hang in the air long enough that Garrus finally replied, seeming compelled to by his empathy. At least he still had the decency for that.

“I’m so sorry, Shepard. I had no idea.”

“Hardly anyone does, unless they have the clearance to look it up. And once I made N7 that got a lot harder. No one knows because the last thing I want is for that to define me, for anyone to feel sorry for me. I wanted to be sure that I had earned every last thing I got, every last position I was promoted to. I made Lieutenant Commander after Elysium. There are two soldiers who have ever made N7 younger than me. _Two_. Now this Spectre commendation keeps being dangled in front of my face and then yanked away, like I didn’t even do all of that. Like I don’t deserve it.”

But Vasir knew, and had used it like a shiv against Shepard. Every one of the Spectres here knew, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. The tears were coming again, but she didn’t wipe at them. She maintained eye contact with Garrus, and kept a severely upright posture. His expression communicated genuine sorrow for her, but she wasn’t at the point yet that she could accept it again.

“I don’t want anyone’s pity, Garrus. Least of all yours. I just want you to know exactly what you did. I’d started to think I at least mattered to _you_.”

“You do,” Garrus replied. “More than anything. I can’t apologize enough, and I can’t take it back. I don’t expect you to forgive me anytime soon. I’ve just been terrified of...everything. Of having something this great, and losing it. I should have just said that instead of overthinking everything.”

“Yeah,” Shepard huffed. 

“When I was thinking this was just a casual thing, it was a lot easier. But I don’t think that anymore. I couldn’t just take this or leave it. I won’t be content not knowing when I’ll see you again. What happens when we’re both Spectres, Shepard? When we have to steal what little time we can get together? I mean, we’ll be doing solo mentorship for four months, right from the beginning. ”

“Then we work for it,” Shepard replied without a shred of doubt or hesitation. “Then we do what we have to. We don’t run from something because it might be hard. And if we’re both Spectres, then who the hell is going to tell us when and how we see one another? It won’t be ideal, but we can make it work if we try.”

“I’m right there with you,” he replied, his countenance shifting almost instantly. “I want this, Shepard. I want us. If you’ll still have me.”

She drew in a breath through her mouth and blew it out longer through her nose. She was inclined to believe him more now than she had been, what with his making essentially a public declaration of his feelings. He wouldn’t have done that even a few days ago.

“I’m going to need a little time to get past all of this, first. Then I’ll let you know where I’m at.”

“Of course,” he responded with an undertone she couldn’t quite discern. Yearning fighting for dominance against trepidation.

“What else did you want to go over?” Shepard inquired, unwrapping her hands and starting to pack up her few things. “The Nika thing, I’m assuming?”

“You heard about that,” he muttered with chagrin. “That’s part of it. We shouldn’t probably discuss it here, though.”

“Yeah. My quarters. Come on.”

\-------

Shepard stopped by to load up on lunch from the cafeteria, leaving Garrus to wait outside before leading the way back to her room. She hopped up cross-legged on the counter eating while Garrus filled her in on exactly what had gone down with Nika. He appeared to be deliberately avoiding looking at her while she ate. It might have been not very pleasant for him to watch a human masticating, she supposed. But when he got to the part where Nika ended up with real bullets in her body, Shepard didn’t even try to stifle the smug chortle that came up in her throat. And Garrus smiled a little at her response, still looking at anything but her. She continued to process his story while mentally combining it with the context of her own knowledge and experience with the little psycho. The part about what Kandros had helped Garrus puzzle out was even more interesting, though not shocking.

“I knew from the start she wasn’t _right_ ,” Shepard declared, sticking her dirty plate in the sink and walking over to where Garrus was sitting on her couch. She took up residence on the floor a few meters away, leaning up against the wall. “I’m not all that surprised it goes deeper than I thought.”

“It gets better,” Garrus said, pulling up his omnitool. “I wanted to see what I could find about her, and I don’t have my old C-Sec clearance but I still have a few friends there who were willing to do me a favor. Come to find out, there’s no record of her at all from before she was the age of majority. I mean, there are universal privacy protections for minors, but usually there’s _something_ that qualifies as a public record. A planet of origin, what schools you attended, a juvenile record, which I’d been sure she’d have. Probably for torturing small animals or something. But no. It’s like she didn’t even exist until she popped into the galaxy as an adult.”

“I actually asked her about her background, a while back,” Shepard chewed on her lip, deep in thought. “She claimed she was as powerful as she was because of some genetic mutation or what have you. But thinking about it now, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was cooked up in a lab somewhere. I always suspected she was engineered, at least. There have been different human organizations running all kinds of sketchy stuff like that from the day we found out what eezo does to us. Would explain all the secrecy, and even why Vasir would nominate her despite her blatant instability.”

“That would actually tie in well with the hypothesis,” Garrus mused. “Lots of room for someone raised that way to turn into a legitimate psychopath. I mean, a biotic kid that strong, who would dare tell her ‘no’ about anything?”

“Most humans who get exposed don’t manifest until their early teens,” Shepard elucidated. “I was exposed in utero like most biotics. Mom wasn’t that close to the incident, but she still came away with registered levels. There was also an accident at the local spaceport when I was 14, where I was exposed again. Manifested shortly after that, got my first implant a few years later. Anyway, whatever happened to make Nika like this, I think it had to have happened from a lot younger than that. I don’t know about turians, but some small minority of humans are just inclined that way, naturally.”

“Oh, we have our share of those,” Garrus concurred. “I’m sure most sufficiently sentient races do. I’m only saying that the excessive biotics can’t have helped.”

“True enough,” Shepard sighed. “What do you propose we do besides making a concerted effort to surveil her?”

“There’s a few people we can talk to,” he suggested. “Kandros is working on that, too. At some point we’ll have enough to take to a Spectre, and pass it off to them so we can finally focus on what we came here for.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Shepard rubbed at her forehead, and explained the encounter she’d had with Janen. Like she’d meant to before everything had blown up between her and Garrus. He didn’t seem terribly shocked, but fairly well concerned.

“There has to be at least one of them we can trust,” Garrus insisted. “Rix is still on the mend, but he’s been reliably helpful up to this point. I trust him.” Garrus stopped, his eyes going distant for a moment, before he focused on her again. “Spirits. Rix. He said he was attacked by a biotic, that was how he was incapacitated. It wasn’t Kyeros that almost killed him. You don’t think that it could have been-?”

Shepard’s stare sharpened. “That would have been great to know.”

“Sorry,” Garrus replied sheepishly. “I’d all but forgotten.”

“Yeah, I can definitely see it. She has the inclination for it, and the skill level to pull it off. Especially if she took him by surprise. She showed up an hour or so after all the rest of us, and she crashed out immediately. It tracks.”

Garrus tilted his head noncommittally. “True, but, once again, we’re short a motive. What would she have had to gain by doing that? It was totally unnecessary, and if he’d remembered it, she’d be done for right now. She’s a lot of things, but unfortunately cunning seems to be up there somewhere between ‘evil’ and ‘monster.’”

“Well, if we assume she was who Kyeros was going after, maybe he found her after all. And maybe...maybe Rix showed up while they were caught up in the confrontation that would have ensued. She wouldn’t have gone quietly...”

Garrus sat up as she trailed off, the thoughts flying through her head faster than she cared to try and put voice to them. 

“So she attacked Rix to prevent him from apprehending her,” he said, paralleling her thought process almost perfectly. “Probably was even intending to kill him, but she botched it. She must have escaped Kyeros after that, but he would have at least been able to use that evidence to try and clear himself of wrongdoing. So why hasn’t he turned up yet, or no one found him?”

“Because,” Shepard said. “because they’re not looking for the right thing.”

Garrus frowned. “Like what?”

She fixed an ominous stare on him. “Like a body.” 

Then, before Garrus had reclaimed his capacity for speech, “Get your coat. We’re going for a drive.”


	29. Chapter 29

Shortly after Shepard had taken a second to explain her use of figurative human speech, they were in her aircar rental and making good time for the jungle. The place that had been the catalyst for so much of their current strife, now potentially held answers to some of their questions.

“I’m not discounting your theory,” Garrus prefaced his doubts. “And I don’t relish bringing this up, but I can’t help but think back to when Kyeros took you down. Nika’s not half the fighter you are. Are we even sure she could have beat him in a straight up fight? He’s ex- _Blackwatch_. She’s an above-average biotic with a god complex.”

“She’s in roughly the asari Matron weight class,” Shepard replied. “Maybe even Matriarch, if she’s been playing it down. That’s the one thing she legitimately has on me. And that fight would have gone a lot differently if I’d been actively trying to kill him, instead of holding back. That’s exactly what I’d expect out of her.”

“Agents like him have armor compensation for powerful biotics,” Garrus countered. “Spectres, too. Not infallible, of course, but it would have made some difference. Incapacitating a Spectre and killing an ex-Blackwatch agent, that would be a trick even for most elites.”

“There are ways around that kind of thing,” Shepard said without going into detail. They finally pulled up off the access road near the front edge of the compact throngs of trees. “And it stops mattering after a certain physics threshold. But think about your match with her. There are a lot of clues there as to how she would have pulled it off. I don’t think Kyeros would have done as well as you at seeing through her psychological warfare and misdirection.”

“And even when I did, she still almost got the better of me,” Garrus sighed with resignation. They had both dressed out in their armor and brought along their weapons. There would be no non-lethal ammo use today, if it came to that. “You’re right. It’s just not fun thinking about her being _that_ capable.”

“We’ll know soon enough,” Shepard marched out into the wooded glade, and Garrus was right behind her. It was much easier to find their way this time, what with having access to sat-nav data through his omnitool. It was still a nearly two hour hike out to where their final stand with Kyeros had gone down. The crater left by his self-destructing firearm was still there, but already there were small sprouts and patches of moss budding within it. Shepard stared down into it, taking a moment, one that Garrus decided she could use, to herself.

Garrus thought back to the finer details of that day that he’d previously thought insignificant. Like which direction Kyeros had been facing when he had his apparent revelation. That may have been him realizing who his true nemesis was, and getting a read on her location. If there had been any hint to which direction he’d fled, Garrus needed to find it. Using his visor linked up to his omnitool display, he plugged in the location of the old ruin off in the distance and triangulated a few of the most likely trajectories of where a potential Quillan/Temaru showdown could have happened, based on how long it had taken Nika to rendez-vous with the rest of the group. 

“This is going to be difficult,” he griped. “Macen said something about having assessed the fight location and what he’d learned from it. I wish I would have known to ask him where about that had been.”

“Luckily,” Shepard gave him a wry half-smile, “you have a professional consultant with you who has a pretty good idea of what the aftermath of a biotic blowout looks like.”

Garrus smiled a little back, and they lingered in a shared gaze. He wanted to take her hand again, that simple but profound act of intimacy that had set him on this path of no return. But no. The rift he’d caused, even if it had been the result of a cross-cultural misunderstanding and not malice, wasn’t his to decide when it was time to bridge. He had to wait for her to let him know when she was ready for that.

“All right. Down the cliff?” Shepard rolled her shoulders. “I can help out if you want to use the express route.”

Garrus huffed a reluctant chuckle at the thought of being floated down biotically. It wasn’t as appealing to him as it may have been to some. “Appreciated, but I’ll pass. My people are natural climbers, would be a shame not to put evolutionary inclinations to good use.”

“Suit yourself,” Shepard chortled back, taking a running jump over the edge. Her armor shone to life with her majestic blue aura, and then she rocketed in a downward trajectory faster than his eyes could follow. Half a second later he heard her land past the canopy below, with a deep basso _thoompf_ sound. A circle of branches and leaves rustled heavily like they’d been taken by a powerful wind.

Garrus nimbly scaled the cliff downward, the plethora of hand and toe holds making it rather easy. He considered that were he in a hurry, and if he had jet boots to cushion his landing, he could have made it down nearly as quickly as Shepard had. That was as quickly as Kyeros would have made it, especially with the knowledge that the second he let Rix get him in his sights, he was done for. And there had been several precious seconds between the explosion and Rix giving chase. Kyeros could have gotten a decent lead, and with the profuse cover and mobility restrictions the jungle provided, it very well could have taken longer than Garrus had assumed for Rix to catch up to him.

He raised his omnitool and scanned out ahead of them in a wide array, trying to catch any sort of aberration in the landscape. A bootprint, broken foliage, anything. It was difficult in a region that changed so rapidly as this one. Plants re-grew too fast, the moist soil shifted constantly in the rain and passage of local fauna and insect life. His best clues currently involved getting an idea of where Nika would have been before Kyeros had moved to intercept her. He deduced the most likely general area from the information he’d plugged in regarding the start and completion times of each participant in the course, combined with the data of his own path, which he’d been keeping record at the time as a way to retrace his steps if necessary. It made for a good example for the algorithm to generate data from, at least.

“This way,” he gestured, and they set off. When he’d once entertained the idea of taking a more casual trip out this way, he hadn’t pictured it going anywhere close to this. At least it wasn’t raining this time, even if the solid cloud cover was making vague threats that it might change its mind about that.

It was a silent walk for the most part, but because they were both completely focused on the task at hand. Garrus would scan ahead in multiple directions, Shepard would point out things that stood out to her as signs of quick movement by people in armor. She briefly mentioned some story about a rainforest back on Earth, not unlike this place, where she’d completed her N1 level and how similar the experience had been, if days longer and with a lot less sleep.

“I think I see something up here,” Shepard said, lifting a six-legged, snake looking thing with her boot and tossing it off into the undergrowth somewhere. “A hole where the top of a tree should be.”

He followed close on her six as she maneuvered through the vegetation, swiping away at wet vines that were hanging lower than the rest. He looked up, and realized she’d been right. The top three meters or so of a tree had been snapped away, not making it all the way to the ground but instead having become entangled in other branches and vines on the way. That hadn’t happened on its own. 

In the beams of light shining in from the canopy, the scene was lit up better than he could have hoped for. He could now see the physical indications of the clash, though it was far more obvious a display than he’d been anticipating. Trees riddled with bullet holes, cracks up and down smaller trunks, a space below the broken tree where something had smashed the vegetation below completely flat. Something had very much happened here. He scanned the tree and picked up on trace levels of the kind of ephemeral residue that blasts of dark energy tended to leave behind. Faint, days old, but conclusive. This was the place Macen had found.

“All right, detective,” Shepard turned to him, fingers propped against her hips. “Give us the rundown.”

Garrus hadn’t been considered an actual detective yet when he’d resigned, but Shepard assigning him the label gave him a small swell in his chest that he liked very much. The thought that she valued his expertise at least somewhat was invigorating. He clasped his cowl and stretched his neck out, rolling it a few times.

“Well,” he sighed. “So, considering the nature of the injuries Rix sustained, combined with the state of things here, I’m inclined to suppose he was launched into the air, collided with the tree here hard enough to break it, then crashed back down to the ground. That’s a roughly six meter freefall drop, that would have done a number even without the first impact.”

“And that first impact would have been a big one,” Shepard concurred. “He would have to have been moving at the equivalent of at least tens of miles an hour to break it in one pass like that.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the hit he took to the head,” Garrus replied grimly. “As bad as the damage was.”

“There’s a couple techniques she could have used to manage that, but even in our evaluations I didn’t see her performing either one. That’s one more check on the side of evidence she’s keeping at least some of her abilities on the down low. The real question is what happened after that. Kyeros witnesses what she does, realizes she’s going to pin it on him, attacks her? Or she doesn’t even give him the chance, and goes on the offensive?”

Garrus nodded, while watching Shepard bend down and push ferns and brush to the side to examine the smashed-down area. He thought back again to his match with Nika, and what he’d learned about her general strategy.

“No,” Garrus mused, turning himself around as he scanned as far out as his range would allow. “I think she probably got the drop on Rix, that he didn’t see it coming. Kyeros, on the other hand, he was good and ready for a fight. He’d have had everything prepared long before, since he’d already been planning to ambush you. No, she would have run, then. Made him pursue her until she had the upper hand again.”

“Which wouldn’t have taken a lot. Biotically charging is a hell of a tactic to get away from the heat, fast. All she’d have had to do was get out of his sight, find somewhere that...hey, pull up the map for me.”

Garrus obliged, and Shepard leaned in against him as she went over the orange-hued holographic display. Her finger hovered over it a moment, hitting a particular geographic feature before her head whipped up in that direction.

“There’s a lake to the west,” she said. “About three kilometers out. A decent hump if you’re on foot, but wouldn’t take all that long if you’re charging your way out there and back.”

Garrus nodded to her silently as she once again led the way towards whatever they were going to find. A lake. A good place to deal with a turian if you had even a basic knowledge of the species’ weaknesses. He suppressed a shudder as he trudged through the mud behind her, handily matching the double-time she was keeping up. For a few uncertain moments he was hit with the possibility that they’d find nothing, that this would all come to nought and they’d have to start over. If the combined efforts of a Blackwatch agent and who knew how many Spectres hadn’t solved this conundrum, it was reasonable to doubt he and Shepard would.

Then, as they stalked up across a rise in the ground, he became acutely aware that his doubts had been completely unfounded.

What hadn’t been a clearing, was one now. Earth that looked as though it had been violently and unevenly tilled, with explosives. Boulders ripped from the ground, scattered about in seeming random fashion. Thrown, most likely. Half-meter thick trees snapped in half like kindling.

“I think we might have found the place,” Garrus murmured sardonically.

“I can’t believe no one _else_ found this,” Shepard replied, a frown in her voice. “You’d definitely see this from overhead. This smells worse every minute.”

Garrus almost asked, then remembered that figurative speech thing again. Shepard was striding across the disrupted space, over to where there was a stark drop of about a meter and black-looking, opaque water below. His eyes swept over the surface of the small lake, which was reflecting the flat white cloud cover, making it that much harder to see anything beneath. Clear water didn’t bother him so much; you could see what you were dealing with. This, though, was unsettling to his core.

“You think she might have knocked him in?”

“Seems like her style,” Shepard confirmed in a dark tone.

“Bad way to go for a turian,” Garrus uttered with solemnity. That was the kind of thing he probably wouldn’t have even wished on Kyeros.

“Not all that pleasant for humans either,” Shepard said. “Holding your breath only does you good for a few minutes, tops. Your scanner work on water?”

“Yeah, just need to input the change in parameters,” he replied as he made the necessary adjustments to the program. He then stepped himself as close to the ledge as he dared, not keen on slipping and Shepard having to rescue him. He pulled on his helmet and turned on his environmental seals just in case. That way he’d have enough emergency oxygen if the worst happened. That gave him a thought.

“He was in his full armor. If he’d gone in, he could have sealed the water out long enough to presumably walk himself to safety, I’d think.”

“Maybe,” Shepard replied quietly. “Or he could have gotten stuck in the mire at the bottom and died slower.”

Garrus felt mildly sick at the thought.

He jerked as his omnitool made a sharp beeping noise. His scan was picking something up, but it was too far away and through too much water to get a good enough reading to be sure what it was besides something solid and not organic, but not stone. At least three meters down, on the bottom of the lakebed, sunk into the silt. He mentioned this aloud to Shepard, who immediately moved behind him, as he pulled up Rix’s contact information in his omnitool.

“We need to call this in, regardless of what happens because of it. It could take hours of dredging- what are you doing?”

Shepard was stripping out of her armor, down to the synth fabric chest halter and the small shorts she wore underneath. It would have been tantalizing in another context, but was disquieting in this one.

“Call them. I’m not waiting around,” she explained in perfect calm, fixing the loosened mess of her hair back up in its tie.

“We should wait,” Garrus lifted his hands to discourage her. Thanks to a deep, inborn distrust of water deeper than wading level, the thought of her going into the water terrified him. She herself had just admitted that humans, capable in the water though they were, had their limits. “They’ll be here within half an hour, with the necessary tools. You won’t have to do this.”

“I happen to be an excellent swimmer,” she smiled in an attempt to assure him that was destined to fail. “Also, there’s this thing called the Mammalian Diving Reflex. I’ll be fine.”

“Please-” he tried to beg, but she’d backed up several steps and rushed forward, diving hands and head first into the lake before even letting him make his case. His heart dropped, and he fell to his hands and knees, crawling his way to the edge.

She was down there a long time. Too long. Each second that passed, each frantic heartbeat was full of terror that she wasn’t coming back up. His eyes flickered to the time display on his omnitool, back and forth between that and the water’s surface. Thirty seconds. Forty-five. One minute. He was starting to be afraid he was going to have to go in after her, when finally her face erupted through the surface tension with a heavy gasp. She sank back in again, her nose and mouth almost going under.

“Garrus-” she managed to gasp out. “Grab-”

But he was already lurching towards her as far as he could and still have enough leverage to keep himself out of the water. His hand grabbed a root that seemed steady enough under a quick tug, and his hand plunged into the water. Instead of getting purchase on her flesh, his gauntlet grabbed another gauntlet. Spirits.

He yanked up as hard as he could, knowing that the weight was going to drag her back down soon if he didn’t. As he rolled back with the effort, the mass in the slime-coated black armor that he was hefting out of the water told him everything. He kept pulling. Kyeros had already been big and bulky for a turian, and now he was waterlogged on top of that. He flung the corpse to one side roughly, immediately driving his hand back down to haul Shepard out next. It was a much, much easier ordeal, and far higher in priority. He held onto her for a brief moment, arms wrapped about her, while she caught her breath again. She laid atop him where he had come to rest half on his side. He hoped she’d forgive him his fear-driven reaction.

Shepard was climbing up off of him before he was ready to accept that she was okay, but he let her go. She staggered her way over to the body, rotating it to its back. She staggered backward from it, gagging, and Garrus moved in to see why. His stomach rolled at the sight that met him.

Kyeros’ limbs had been broken and twisted at various unnatural angles. His spine didn’t seem to be aligned right, either. But the absolute worst of the damage was above all of that. Half his helmet, and by extension what had been his head, had been blown away. Probably multiple shots, reducing what could be seen past the black poly-carbon alloy to a pulpy mass, only a few faint purple streaks on the face plates confirming his identity. And then he had been in the water for several days, and it showed. He’d seen his share of gruesome crime scenes, but this topped most of them. These injuries were almost certainly carried out pre-mortem; otherwise, why bother? And it more than fit Nika’s abnormal psychological leanings. 

Kyeros hadn’t died quickly. It was one thing that Garrus himself had wanted to hurt him, wanted to kill him. It was another thing to witness the result of someone having taken their time to inflict the most suffering possible before ending him.

“Oh god,” Shepard whispered. “Garrus. Back after our first Stage One exercise, after she threatened to kill you. The last thing Kyeros said to her.”

Garrus blinked, thinking back. His gut was roiling now. “‘Not with half a cranium, you’re not,’” he repeated from his memory. “ _Spirits_. This was definitely her.”

Now they knew. Knew that she was willing, was capable of killing. The threats she’d made against him personally were looking starkly more chilling in that light. And she’d gone as far as researching him. She’d meant to go through with it. She had the compunction. That she hadn’t tried, that he wasn’t sure of. Maybe offing Kyeros had temporarily slaked her blood thirst. Or maybe she was just patient.

“Kyeros was right,” Shepard cursed. “He was right about what he was looking for, even if he missed the mark slightly. And he was right that we can’t trust the Spectres with what we know. He just went about dealing with it in the worst possible way.”

“We can trust _some_ of them,” Garrus rebutted. 

“No,” Shepard replied. “I mean, yes, I know that a few of them would believe us, would agree with our conclusions. But we don’t know everything else that’s going on, who else is involved. There are still too many unanswered questions. And everything else that has been going on so far has been covered up, just like this will be.”

He scanned the body more thoroughly while Shepard went about getting back into her armor. No fingerprints or other biometrics, but then, there wouldn't have been. The particulates of a number of rounds were still embedded in what was left of his head could have come from any gun. Even the devastation around them only narrowed it down, it didn’t point to Nika conclusively. Everything else they had was convincing, but circumstantial. Not enough. It was C-Sec all over again. But, at the very least, now they were headed rapidly in the right direction. He only hoped they could do something about this before she managed to kill again.

The sound of the shuttle coming down overhead spurred him to stand and back away from what used to be Kyeros and pull his helmet back off. He exchanged a look with Shepard, who had almost gotten all of her armor back on. The air from the descending vehicle buffeted them back even further.

“Garrus,” Shepard had raised her voice over the noise, “we can’t let them know what we suspect. _Who_ we suspect. Not yet.”

He didn’t like it, but she was right.

The shuttle doors opened to reveal Rix first, coming out with more confidence in his steps than not long ago. He was followed by others- Maerun, Vasir, and another turian he didn’t recognize right away. No Nihlus, to his surprise- the man should have been the most interested in coming here, being the highest Spectre authority here as he was. Shepard stepped up behind him, bumping into him slightly. Keeping in steady contact.

“Saren,” she said, a repulsed growl in her throat. And then he got it. He knew Saren Arterius by reputation, if not by his face. A ruthless man of questionable integrity, yet unquestionable results. He was one of the more longstanding, well-favored Spectres that the Council had at their disposal. But it was his more infamous activities that Garrus’ father had been known to point to when expositing on exactly everything he found to be wrong with the Spectres. He didn’t know how Shepard knew of him, but by her reaction she was on the right track.

Rix didn’t acknowledge them, simply strode until he reached Kyeros’ remains and knelt down to observe them. Vasir and Maerun followed him, making their own observations and formulating opinions. Maerun specifically went quite in-depth with his own scans, crouching across from Rix and offering bits of his analysis as he worked.

Saren stood a ways off from them, exchanging a toxic glare with Shepard for longer than Garrus was comfortable with. Arterius’ powerful hatred for humanity wasn’t any kind of secret. Garrus made a point to remain immovable between Saren’s position and hers. He didn’t expect anything was about to go down, but he was past taking those kinds of chances. And it made a statement.

“Is there a chance Barro did this?” Vasir asked Rix, breaking the silent stalemate.

“He wouldn’t have left him out here hidden,” Rix replied with an understated snarl. “He’d have told anyone who’d have listened, been proud of it.”

“I’m not sure what Kryik was thinking,” Saren sneered, “Letting a Blackwatch operative interfere in this matter, especially unsupervised.”

“He was thinking he couldn’t have stopped him if he wanted to,” Rix snapped at him. 

“Turians,” Vasir snorted. “Even your romantic notions tend to be violent. Oops,” she added, shifting an unapologetic smirk in the direction of Garrus and Shepard. “Forgot we had an audience.”

Rix surprised Garrus by ignoring her. Likely owing to the fact that he knew that at least Garrus was already aware, and trustworthy. Saren’s head swiveled sharply towards them.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?” he demanded. “I’m exceedingly curious to know how you came to determine where to look, to begin with.”

“This isn’t your investigation, Saren,” Rix informed him, rising back to his feet and stopping Garrus from answering. “And these candidates not your concern. I only allowed you along as an observer. If you’d wanted to be involved you shouldn’t have dumped your responsibilities on me at the last minute.”

“And look how well you’ve all been handling it,” Saren replied in a mocking tone. “At least now my view on this whole pointless debacle has been vindicated, and we can shut it down for good.”

“That’s not your call to make,” Vasir snapped. “Rix is right about that much. You abdicated any say you would have had in this.”

“Oh, I think not,” Saren tilted his head at her. “I think I have a main line to the Council, and that my personal assessment of the situation will carry quite a bit of weight.”

Garrus glowered. Now he sounded just like Kyeros. His motivations were less clear, but his actions and testimony would be far more impactful.

“There are thirty of us against you,” Vasir shot back. “As well as whoever among the rest of our number who support this venture, even if they didn’t participate. We’re already too close to accomplishing what we set out to do, and the Council needs this too much. You may be used to wielding your influence like a cudgel, Arterius, but it won’t work here.”

Rix had approached Garrus and Shepard while the other Spectres argued in the background behind them. His eyes lingered on Shepard and her still-soaked hair, then flicked to Garrus.

“Is this related in any way to your last match?” Rix asked abstractly in a low tone. Asking another question without asking it. _Was it her?_ So he had his suspicions of her all on his own, that was a revelation. Garrus tensed, remembering what Shepard had said. He wasn’t a capable liar, and he couldn’t bullshit like Kyeros had done well. 

“It’s too early to say,” Shepard replied instead, mirroring both Rix’s manner and affect. Rix gave her a look that Garrus recognized as dubious.

“Saren may be overstepping but he raises an important question. How did you find him?”

“The same method Macen used,” Garrus replied. “Only, we were looking for a dead man instead of a live one.”

“And...no one else knows about this?”

“No,” Shepard acknowledged, though she sounded tense. “And they won’t. Usual procedure.”

“Very good,” he nodded to them. “We can discuss this more later, when we can be alone. Do you need a ride back?”

Both Shepard and Garrus declined him in sync. Rix dismissed them, and the two started their long trek back to their vehicle. Garrus cast one final look over his shoulder, catching one last glare from Saren. One more puzzle piece with nowhere to put it.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter today! Also there will be more smut, if that's not your thing you can safely skip everything after the *third* line break.

Shepard didn’t know why Nihlus coming to collect her for an emergency meeting was as much of a relief as it was. Some strange concern in her head when he hadn’t shown up at the murder scene, an unfounded concern that something might have happened to prevent him from being there. When she opened on that question, he responded that he’d been overseeing a match and therefore Rix hadn’t bothered to contact him. He sounded more than a little put out over the whole thing as he paced his office floor.

“This whole time,” Nihlus snarled into the fist he had propped against his mouth. “He’s been dead since that same night. No wonder it felt like pursuing a ghost.”

It couldn’t have felt good, either, that this outcome hadn’t been predicted by him or any of his colleagues, and that a lowly pair of Spectres-in-waiting had been the ones to crack the thing open. It was Shepard’s turn to feel smug. It felt deserved.

“You didn’t have all of the information,” she offered, not terribly concerned with whether she would come across as patronizing. “I can’t see how you’d have concluded it otherwise.”

“And what _was_ all of the information?” Nihlus was disgruntled. “I can’t help but notice you didn’t come to me with this before going out to confirm your suspicions.”

“I wanted to be sure, first,” she deflected easily. “Then when we were, we took the appropriate steps. I was going to come to you personally before long. But if we’d found nothing, there wouldn’t have been a reason to bother you with it.”

“This doesn’t happen again,” he hissed at her, leaning forward at her. “The minute you’ve got something, I hear about it _first_. Do you understand?”

She didn’t shrink back. “Perfectly,” she replied, internally adding, _If I decide it’s called for._

“ _And_ you involved Vakarian, which I specifically instructed you against.”

“Sir, you instructed me not to tell him about our arrangement,” she argued. “And I haven’t. But I was clear with you that I believe he can be trusted. I’m under no obligation to conform to your opinion on that, otherwise.”

He breathed heavily at her a moment, then made an effort to compose himself. He circled around his desk and sank into his seat, contemplating his next thoughts carefully.

“Saren Arterius is involved in this now,” Nihlus stated plainly. “Our entire endeavor is in jeopardy. Everything I’ve managed to accomplish to this point, he could unravel from under me on a whim.”

“I picked up on that. The other Spectres didn’t seem to think he actually had the power to do that.”

“I know him better than they do,” he replied, resting his forehead in his hands. “He was my mentor. I’ve been laboring for a long time under the impression that he was my friend. I’m not only in charge here, Shepard. This was my concept. My proposal to the Council. I was given license to attempt it. If it fails, that all falls on me, and it won’t be insignificant.”

This was news to Shepard, and it was enough to arouse some measure of sympathy in her for him, and better understanding for some of his behavior up to now.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen,” she assured him with the same confident tone she’d been maintaining. “You’re not the only one with a lot at stake, here.”

“That’s one of the reasons I chose you to help me,” Nihlus responded. “But I’m afraid it’s not going to be enough, if it comes down to that.”

Shepard frowned. “Why does Saren want to see this get shut down so badly, anyway?”  
  


Nihlus leveled a stare at her, weighing whether there was a risk to giving her the information, no doubt. “He was on board at first, actually. Then he found out I had no intention of restricting candidates to Council species, like he’d assumed. He was, well, less than approving. He withdrew from the project, and recruited Avitus to replace him.”

“Because he hates humans in particular,” she prodded. “And he found out your preferred candidate was human.”

“He didn’t know _that_ bit until more recently,” Nihlus folded his arms and leaned back. His tone was soft, a hint of regret in it. “I’m not so foolish that I’d have admitted that outright. I know his prejudices well. However, you’re probably right that now that he knows, he’s gone from expecting it to fail without him, to taking a more direct approach.”

“Some friend.”

“As it must look from the outside. That’s all I’m discussing about that.”

Shepard chewed her lip. If the situation were slightly different, Saren would now be a top suspect in her mind. Technically, she supposed, he still was in a sense, but for something else. It couldn’t be him that was orchestrating everything that had gone on, she was reasonably sure of that.

“What about Vasir?” Shepard inquired. “Up to yesterday, I’d have thought she was just roped into this and decided to use it for her own ends. But she was just as passionate in arguing against Saren as Rix was.”

“They’re all using this to their own ends,” Nihlus admitted. “Most of them, at the very least, to some extent or another. That was half of the appeal, to give them the opportunity to get their own preferred candidate into the field, guaranteed. Saren is an outlier, in that he has a handful of elected recommendations to his name; most of us are fortunate to get one advanced. Yes, I’m sure Vasir is playing her own game. Why wouldn’t she? We’re Spectres, Shepard, you can’t not realize that’s the way of things.”

“Kind of starting to sound like a bad system.”

“One you’re trying your hardest to work your way into,” he raised a brow plate at her. He had her there.

“Maybe I’m aiming to change things from the inside,” she suggested. He laughed at that.

“You wouldn’t be the first. Best of luck to you, and I mean that. Here’s to you changing the way the Spectres are run, before being a Spectre changes how _you_ run.”

\---------

A few days had gone by. Eerie days of watching everyone around her going about their lives in banal normality, while knowing exactly why they shouldn’t be. It all left an awful taste in her mouth to keep quiet when there was a remorseless killer in their midst. Well, besides probably every single Spectre at some point, to be fair. But other than keeping tabs on Nika, there wasn’t much else to be done. And she seemed to spend most of her days in her room, outside of mealtimes and matches. If she ever noticed that she was being tailed, she was good at faking otherwise.

It had been worse to keep most of their evidence from Rix, and it may have all been for nothing since he had interrogated both her and Garrus separately from one another. It had been a smart move. But Rix hadn’t called them out on any discrepancies, implying they hadn’t tripped his suspicions after all. And so they were left to figure out between them where to go from there. 

Garrus had suggested getting a group of them together, at the very least those who had been party to the conversation back in the jungle ruin. Maybe one or two others whose help would be useful, like Alenko. Shepard had been more skeptical, asking for more time to consider all the angles and possible pitfalls. Janen hadn’t wanted to take the chance of someone seeing her talking with Shepard, let alone gathering in a much larger group. An attitude Shepard might have considered paranoid until recently. More people did mean more minds on the problem, but it also increased everyone’s personal risk at once by a power of magnitude equal to the number of those involved.

Garrus had let her be for the most part, and between the passage of time and the influx of bigger problems, her vexation with him had cooled to the point that she was starting to miss having him around. She was also resolving to herself that she didn’t want there to be any lingering time bombs waiting to set off that particular kind of chain of events again. A night to clear her head wouldn’t hurt either. So, she invited him out.

His response came back rather quickly, communicating before she even read his response that he was eagerly anticipating her suggestion. It was the weekend now, and they could legitimately use some time to relax. They drove dowtown to somewhere they could park and walk through the city, until some place caught their mutual attention. There was one other aim, however, and that was to scope out a potential meeting place like Garrus had proposed. Shepard was warming to the idea, so long as they limited it to one time only and were excessively cautious about their execution.

“There’s this quaint little bar just outside of downtown,” Garrus suggested. “The main room might not be the best choice, but I think I remember there being private rooms available.”

“Lead the way,” Shepard smiled a little. She’d gone ahead and dressed up for him, and fallen back into enjoying his obvious approval of it.

“It’s a ways away. Might take less time if we drive?”

“You have any other plans for tonight?” she teased, but also remembering she was wearing heels. The pain of extended wear would probably subside within the next two days before her next match. Probably.

“No,” he chuckled back. “That’s fair.”

There was a peaceful lull as they took in the lights and sounds of the city around them, the warm summer breeze, and one another’s general presence. Shepard used it to build up momentum for the next part of the conversation.

“So, I was thinking we should make sure we get everything out in the open. No more nasty surprises or mistaken assumptions. Communication is pretty important in a relationship, after all.”

“Well, in the spirit of that,” Garrus came back cautiously, “are... _we_ in a relationship? I mean, only for my own clarification.”

She smirked mischievously at him. “Friendship is a relationship.”

He coughed a laugh. “Yes, but, you know what I mean.”

“You know, it’s hard for me to tell sometimes,” she confessed. “I haven’t been in many personally. We do seem to make a good team, though. There’s that.”

He turned his head to her, taking her in the way he did when he was getting in a sentimental way. “That we do. Of course, that’s not difficult when one half of us is Commander Shepard, N7 special forces, all of that.”

“Hey,” she nudged him with her body. “There almost wasn’t a Shepard, if not for Vakarian.”

He laughed again, the kind that was a nervous tick for him. “Not quite. But. I appreciate the sentiment. Anyway, something about more open communication. I take it you had something specific in mind?”

“You got me,” Shepard heaved a sigh. She was doing this, consequences be damned. “So, there _is_ actually a reason I’ve been taking an inordinate number of one-on-one sessions with Nihlus. I couldn’t tell you because I asked permission to, and he said no.”

Garrus blinked, and she heard him clear his throat. “Ah. I see. That...I understand.”

“Not entirely, yet. At some point recently I decided, to hell with that,” she continued. “So here it is. He recruited me to help keep an eye out and report back to him, and I have been. He’s known about all of the same insidious activity we’ve noticed, from at least around the same time we did, and he wanted someone on the inside so to speak.”

Garrus was stunned into silence a moment. “Wow,” he finally breathed. “Then, what was the reason he didn’t want you to tell me?”

Shepard frowned out ahead of her. It was the truth, but it wouldn’t be altogether pleasant to tell. “Partly because he had some idea of my feelings about you and thought that was compromising my judgement. And, he seems to think he has some reason to distrust you. He didn’t get into the specifics because he assumed I’d tell you, so I don’t know.”

“I suppose I can’t fault him on the first part,” Garrus muttered. “But, I can’t fathom what I could have done for him to…”

He trailed off a bit, seeming to get lost in thought. Then he stopped short, looking up at a sign they were approaching. “Ah, um. This is it. The bar I told you about.”

“Garrus?” she asked, the wind catching her hair. “No big deal if there’s really nothing, but if there’s anything at all you should be telling me-”

“Nothing’s coming to mind, Shepard,” he replied calmly. “Although...if we go back to my C-Sec days, I guess I did get in trouble more than my share for not toeing the line. Bucking the bureaucracy, not always making sure every tick box was checked on handling suspects.”

She raised her brows at him and smiled in amusement. “Police brutality?”

He scratched at the back of his neck and fidgeted. “Once or twice, maybe. And once when...look. There was this one guy, a pretty prolific drug smuggler I was tracking for months. Kishpaugh. I had him dead to rights, but I couldn’t seem to get enough hard evidence for a secure conviction. I mean, same basic situation as now, with Nika, right? So I bring him in anyway, thinking maybe if I can get a confession out of the guy it won’t matter. Then my dad, he was C-Sec too, I guess was going through my recent case files and didn’t like my methods. So he cut the guy loose.”

“Damn,” Shepard whispered as he held the door for her. The old wood smell mixed with the faint sickly sweet bitterness of booze was pleasant and brought up happier memories. Early days as a grunt with her first squad, taking shore leave and dreaming of one day being big damn heroes.

“Yeah,” Garrus agreed, following her in. “We had it out. Not the first time, but this one rankled me in particular. I ended up not speaking to him for a while. And then, before we had a chance to patch things up, he was murdered. My dad, I mean.”

“ _Garrus_ ,” Shepard replied to him as he sent an unfocused gaze around the main room. “God.”

He shrugged, his shoulders stiff.

“Not long after that, I put in my resignation. Then, since I wasn’t C-Sec anymore, I tracked Kishpaugh down and beat him within an inch of his life. Didn’t kill him, but let’s just say being on permanent disability has a way of hampering one’s ability to smuggle drugs. It was a...rough time for me. Kishpaugh too, I guess.” He said the last part with a bitter half-laugh.

They’d wandered off to a small side hallway, beyond which there was in fact a stairway to an advertised private drinking area with a sign indicating that it was by reservation only. Shepard would have been happier about the find, were her mind not suddenly numb from the information Garrus had laid on her.

“So. In the name of communication, there it is,” Garrus said with dour affect. “One of my worst moments.”

“Did they find who was responsible?” she asked him softly. “For what happened to your dad?”

Garrus was silent for a long moment, his blue eyes seeking hers out for emotional support.

“No. Hopefully someday. But not yet. I suppose part of me thought that if I was a Spectre, then maybe I could…” He snorted at himself. “But that’s foolish. Spectres have a lot of leeway, but they do have some constraints, like sticking to your assignments, and not making your bosses look bad. I doubt the Council would take well to one of their own storming around the Citadel hunting down every last perp that ever got away.”

“Sure,” Shepard agreed. The hall was empty besides the two of them, so she pressed a compassionate hand to his face. He leaned into the warmth, clasping his own hand over it.

“But right now, all I really want is to be far away from all of that,” he exhaled into her palm. “It’s actually been a relief having everything else to think about, even the bad things. I know that’s not a great way to think about it-”

“I get it,” she interrupted. And she did. Fantasies of blowing away every last Batarian in the galaxy had haunted her for a long time. It had taken a whole lot of therapy and years of military service to get her past it. And some of it would never be completely gone, but Garrus was right, sometimes all you could do was keep so busy that you didn’t have the time to fixate on the bad things you couldn’t change.

His arm curled around her waist and pulled her into him. She reciprocated, lifting her arms up around his neck and leaning into him, taking in his understated, almost pine-and-campfire-like scent. He held her for a while, or they held each other.

“I feel better with you,” he said into her hair after a minute, and Shepard knew immediately that it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. For a guy who was so often bad with words, that had been perfect. She turned her mouth upwards so her lips grazed his neck, and for a second his hold on her tightened in response. She’d been adjusting so he’d be able to hear her, but the way he’d responded to the sensation was fun, too. She kissed him a couple of times for good measure, and a deep rumble reverberated in his chest.

“You want to head back?” she asked.

“Desperately.”

  
\---

Back on the compound, one pathway led to his building and the other to hers. They came to the fork, hands entwined, and he looked down to her.

“Your place or mine?” he asked, some of that nervousness seeping back into his delivery.

“I think I read somewhere that in turian dating etiquette, we’d go to yours until I’m more tolerant of your presence,” Shepard turned a teasing grin up at him. He stared at her a second, then stifled a guffaw and had to re-compose himself.

“That’s not quite- well, okay, I think I see what you’re referring to,” he managed between catching his breath again. Shepard had folded her arms across her chest, giving him raised brows that asked, ‘well?’ 

“My room it is,” he finished after clearing his throat. He held out his hand for hers again, and instead she took his arm and bent out his elbow, directing his hand towards his waist. She slid her hand into the newly created crook, and gave him a not-at-all playfully condescending look.

“Looks like we have a lot to learn about each other,” she replied, urging him on with her body.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he agreed, escorting her to his room. Once inside, he sealed the door and turned to face her with a posture that was all tensed up again. She approached him slowly, carefully, trying to convey a sense of calm and reassurance. She stopped when their bodies were on the cusp of pressing together, and set her hands on his shoulders while his found her waist.

“You know, I tried to just stop thinking about you for a while,” he said to her after a few mute minutes. “Back while I was afraid of letting myself be okay with this. It didn’t work all that well.”

She smiled.

“I might have gone through something similar.”

“I don’t know why this works,” he said, “I might not ever. But I’m glad it does.”

“That makes two of us,” she replied, letting her eyes wander his body like she’d always been careful to avoid doing in most circumstances. “So. How do you want this to go?”

He shrugged, fighting through his anxiety. “I think I - I’d like to go with whatever comes naturally. I don’t want to overthink everything again. I just want...this.”

“I want that too,” she replied tenderly, cupping his face and kissing the side of his mouth. It was easier in heels, which were going to have to go, soon. He leaned into her touch, his free hand finding and curling around the back of her head, her hair apparently his preferred go-to. His fingers stroked idly through the strands.

“I should probably have asked, but this is okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Feels nice, even.”

“Good.” He held her close with his other hand, heartily enjoying his newfound permission to play with her hair.

\---

Shepard grinned low as he kept at it, and after giving him what she deemed to be enough time to have his fun, lifted her hands to the straps of her dress. She hooked her fingers under the fabric pulled them just enough to the sides to send the whole dress dropping to the floor. She’d deliberately chosen to minimize what was underneath; no bra and a style of underwear she sure wouldn’t have chosen for comfort’s sake. 

They’d already had sex once, but it had all happened in the dark and neither of them had gotten more naked than was absolutely necessary to complete the act. The whole matter had been committed in an impulsive frenzy, and been over in literal minutes. In the well-lit room, she was almost entirely nude in front of him for the first time, and he was frozen, staring at her. Drinking it in. Or him processing the sight had locked up his mind like an overworked terminal, it could have been either.

“Are we still doing this?” she asked, trying to be coy. He made a light cough from his dry throat.

“Yeah, definitely.”

It was his domicile, he was the host, but she took his hand and walked him back to the bedroom. He floated after her as though in a daze. Once they were inside, she released him and turned, first making a slow, seductive show of getting her panties and heels off. Then she sank down to the mattress and leaned back on her hands, keeping her knees together. She invited him over with a lean of her head, and he finally broke free from his trance. He got to work on the fastenings of his own clothing, without taking his eyes off her more than he could help. Shepard paid close attention to his method of undress, taking notes so she’d eventually be able to pick up on doing it for him another time.

She reciprocated his surely _entirely_ scientific visual analysis as he finished getting his pants off. He wasn’t ‘out’ yet, and the vast majority of the surface of his body was composed of thick, leathery hide and formidable plating. There were a few surprises- the exact, nuanced shape of his cowl, spines here and there that didn’t show through his clothing, blue tattoos on his right upper arm that reflected those on his face. He stood before her as though expecting to be harshly critiqued on his appearance. He had abandoned language completely for the moment.

“Come here,” she beckoned him. “I want you to take the initiative this time.”

And he did. He drifted toward her, deep consideration in his eyes, before kneeling in front of her. She was liking where this was headed already. He caressed her knees cautiously, an imploring gaze on his face.

“Could I…” he faltered. “Is it all right if I-”

“Garrus,” she said, reaching forward to stroke his face again. “I want you to do what you want, and if there’s anything I don’t like, I’ll tell you. I more than trust you to stop if I say something. Or you’ll figure it out halfway through your flight into the next room.”

A very diplomatic way of saying ‘just get in there already, turian. We’ve wasted enough time.’

He chuckled anxiously again. “That’s what I’d like to avoid.”

He hesitated again but less so this time, carefully nudging her knees apart with his hands. She very happily acquiesced, parting her legs to accommodate his desires. He stroked the inner flesh of her thighs, appreciating the texture, and stared down at her sex for a moment. She gracefully allowed him his visual exploration without adding snarky commentary. He finally summoned up his determination. He bent his head downward as she’d been hoping he would, using his fingers to spread the folds of her below. He flicked his tongue gingerly between her flesh. Probing, testing. She made an agreeable noise in the back of her throat, and around the same time Garrus deemed the conditions right to proceed. He started to lick more fully at her, starting with long, achingly deep strokes of his tongue and gradually turning it into faster, more delicate flicks. She actually had to slow him down, let him know that less was going to be more as her sensitivity built up. He seemed almost a little disappointed but took the direction without complaint.

God, but he was going to ruin humans for her, dammit.

Garrus was nothing if not a quick study. Shepard lolled back onto the bed, hooking her ankles behind his head and reveling in every stroke of his tongue. Her hips began to buck responsively in time to his lapping. His hands snaked up outside her thighs and gripped her hips, holding her steady. Damn but he was _strong_. Just like their first night, it didn’t take much effort for his iron grip to keep her right where he wanted her. And yet it didn’t even seem to register with him- he was entirely focused on how he was making her feel, not of all the things he could do to her if given license.

She was loudly moaning out his name as he worked her to her climax, and he was softly moaning against her sex in response. Eventually the lightning of climactic pleasure fired through her, spreading out into her from her core. Her thighs tightened against the sides of his head, her back bowing up in desperate euphoria. He kept sending his tongue out in lighter, longing motions until she had to beg for him to stop, that it was overloading her. In the best way.

As she recuperated, he crawled up onto the bed next to her. He caressed a hand over her, paying close attention to how she reacted to various parts of her being touched. She could feel the dewy warmth of his length pressing into her hip, making a it clear that he’d been properly aroused by his activities and her response to them. Once she was breathing normally again, he brushed the last few strands from her face and smiled a little.

“Good start?”

“Nnngh,” she managed, and he chuckled.

“I’ll put that down as ‘exceeds expectations.’ Ready to go again?”

“You’re goddamn right I am,” she rasped. He started to sit up, and paused, looking down at her.

“Are you okay with-”

“Less talking, Vakarian,” she droned at him in a vaguely irritated reminder. “I mean, more talking, that voice is really doing it for me. Less questioning, more doing.”

He sucked in a long breath and quickly gave a small nod, mostly to himself. Then, to her pleasant surprise, he slid a hand down around her waist and hauled her up against him, pulling her legs to either side of his thin waist, staring into her face for a moment. His erection was pressed up against her stomach, and she grazed her fingers over it as she got a better look at him than before. As she was doing that he moved a few extra pillows behind her, small grunts of need bubbling up his throat at what she was doing. Finally he laid her down on the pillows, lined up in front of him. He kept hold of her legs, so her lower body stayed raised on his thighs. Oh, but she liked where this was going. She glanced down to finally get another look at what he was ostensibly about to put in her. He was holding himself in his hand, adjusting his aim, and then gave her a last inquiring expression. Instead of asking aloud, his brow plates raised slightly.

_Still good?_

“Please yes,” she begged in a hoarse whisper. He slipped the tip of him in first, carefully, slowly easing his way in as though their first encounter hadn’t happened much more aggressively and everything had turned out fine. He kept slowly inching forward until he was nearly completely buried in her. There was a bit more to him, a small expansion at the base of him. What she’d read about it suggested it was more sensitive than the rest of the shaft, and fully hilting was a more intense experience most often reserved for serious relationships. She was intrigued by the possibility of them experiencing that together in the future.

Garrus maintained an achingly leisurely pace for longer than she was content with at first, but after a few minutes she let herself relax and warmed to it, letting herself slip into pure selfish enjoyment of what he was doing. His hands wandered back to the areas of her flesh that had gotten the best reactions, mostly her breasts and the nape of her neck just under her hair. As though he was filling her with rapture and trying to learn all about her at the same time. His vocalizations were mostly utterances of her name, compulsive moans, and occasional impulsive turian curses. A couple of which slipped past her translator, allowing her brief snippets of hearing his real voice. It was remarkably similar to the one she was used to hearing, only with far different lingual sounds.

Shepard made sure to make it clear through her own moaning and writhing just how good this was going for her. Finally that started to spur him into going faster, his pace picking up and holding moderately for a while, until he couldn’t seem to bear it any longer. His hands found her hips again, which was quickly starting to become a favorite, and held tightly to her as he started to launch harder, faster thrusts.

She finished a second time somewhere in there, her legs clamping down on his midsection and her spine arching her back into the pillows. He kept going, not even slowing down. He was visually checking with her each time before he increased his pace and force, until finally he was lost to his most urgent need. He leaned forward over her as he finished his race to the peak, pressing his mouth against her collar bone, and she raised her arms over his neck to keep him close. He gave a final, hard thrust and cried out as he was completed, gasping a few times afterwards in what sounded like shock.

Shepard squeezed her grip on him and he melted into her once his muscles stopped compulsively firing. He crumpled to one side of her, completely limp and satiated. He nuzzled his way into her neck, panting through his nostrils.

“Ready for round three?” Shepard breathed with a tired smile.

“Nnngh,” he managed.


	31. Chapter 31

The sunlight was reflecting off her lovely skin, her tousled hair a crown all around the pillow under her head. His pillow. His bed. Here she was, peacefully sleeping curled up near his chest, him propped on an elbow gazing down upon her. Spirits. It had taken him forever to work himself up to accepting that a casual relationship with a human was acceptable. But this, this he hadn’t been ready for. For how very content he felt with her soft warmth against his body. For the sensation of her steady breaths on his knuckles. This was how it should be, his primitive hindbrain had decided a while ago and was now informing him that it had told him so.

Sleeping next to her hadn’t been without its issues; they were both used to sleeping alone, for one, and she wasn’t used to turian mattresses. She said they reminded her of ‘memory foam’ but even less firm, more shape-conforming. He wouldn’t have blamed her for going back to her own room for a better night’s sleep, but she’d opted to stay. And he was appreciating the hell out of it.

Garrus stroked her hair, shining brightly in the light. It was like gazing upon some strange, beautiful, powerful being. A spirit of fire and strength, given shape. And she was with _him_.

Her eyes slowly fluttered and after a few seconds she smiled up at him sleepily. He smiled back in his peoples’ own way.

“Hey,” she greeted him in a croaky early-morning voice. 

“Hey,” he responded in kind. He’d already been up for a little while. “Sleep okay?”

“Well enough,” she rolled to her back and stretched. He watched her body, the way her muscles flexed just beneath her flesh, the parts of her where he could see her ribs and collarbones when she moved in just such a way. He ran a few strands of her hair between his fingers, the stuff not remotely having lost its novelty for him yet.

“Who’s your match with tomorrow?” he asked.

“Mmh. Teg, I think. Or maybe the other one.”

“Dax?”

“Yeah, that guy. Biotics only, no firearms, tech or melee.”

Garrus huffed a small chuckle. “That doesn’t sound fair for him.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been surprised before,” she grinned and pulled herself up to him to kiss on his mandible. He gladly helped, wrapping an arm behind her back for support, humming out an approving rumble.

“I could give you some pointers,” Garrus offered. “I have a little knowledge on standard Cabal tactics.”

“I’d rather give him at least a sporting chance,” Shepard chuckled, then sat up and stretched again. “Mmf. I do have a few things I need to do this morning. And we need to get that meeting set up. I’m thinking we send them all an invite for a drink. We can explain what is really going on once we’re there.”

“Some of them might not show if they think it’s only a social call,” Garrus suggested.

“Then anyone who turns us down we’ll have to try and catch in person,” Shepard replied. “I don’t want to take the risk of leaving a trail for someone to follow by giving away our real intentions in a message.”

“Sure,” Garrus agreed, then paused as he heard a knock at his door. Shepard glanced over to him, smirking with a raise of an eyebrow.

“Was I supposed to have left by now?” she teased. He frowned out at the living room area.

“Hm. No. I’m not expecting anyone.” He reached a hand over, pulling her back against him again and nibbling at her shoulder blade. “Maybe if we ignore them they’ll go away.”

The knock came again, and Shepard turned her face just over her shoulder. “It could be important.”

“If it was, they should send me a-” he started to say just as his omnitool pinged. He sighed, releasing her and pulling up his messages. Then his eyes widened. His heart stopped and then plunged into his stomach. “Oh. Oh no. _What_?”

He flew up off the bed, scrambling for his clothes, leaving Shepard to watch him in bemusement. 

“I, ah, can you wait in here for a bit?” he asked, nearly falling over twice in a row as he fought to get into his pants. “I have some unexpected company.”

“I guess so?” Shepard frowned at him. He swallowed, pulling on his tunic. The knock at the door sounded again, and he winced at it.

“It’s my family,” he explained, rattled. “My mom and sister. I don’t know why or how they’re here, but. Well. They are.”

Shepard’s eyes widened, her expression morphing into something much more understanding. “Ah. I hope everything’s okay.”

“Me too,” he muttered, finishing fixing his clothes and checking them over twice for possible mistakes. He gazed at Shepard a moment, half in apology, half for morale. “Thank you.”

She half-smiled. “Not a problem.”

Garrus rushed out, closing the door quickly behind him. He went to the front door and heard another, more insistent knock, followed by his mother chiding Solana, who responded by loudly calling for Garrus to let them in already. He reached for the door panel, spotting Shepard’s dress at the last minute. His hide prickled at the near-miss, grabbing it and tossing it into the kitchenette before opening the door. He rubbed at his eyes, genuinely flustered but also to emphasize the early hour.

“Spirits, I’m here,” he grumbled at Sol, who rushed him with a hug. He caught her with a small ‘oof,’ realizing that she’d shot up a few centimeters since they’d last seen one another. They were now nearly of a height. His eyes found his mother’s. “Sorry. I just woke up, had no idea you two were coming. Or that they even allowed visitors here.”

“I may have made some calls and gotten an exception,” Mom smiled at him, pulling him into a warm embrace as Sol trotted past him into his quarters. His eyes followed her warily. His sister wasn’t well known for respecting his boundaries.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, tension high in his throat. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing like that,” mom assured him, patting his cowl. “The Hierarchy just called in their next wave of recruits early. Sol’s going to be in boot camp next time you have leave to come visit home again, so otherwise you’d have missed one another.”

“And I get to tell everyone my brother’s going to be a Spectre!” Sol chirped.

Garrus brow plates dipped towards one another, sending an irritable look to Sol then a more concerned version towards his mother. Not only was it odd that Mom had gone out of her way to arrange a small reunion between them, but moreso that the Academy staff had allowed it, even for this. There was still so much going on, it was an unnecessary risk. 

“Already?” he asked, perplexed.

“I _am_ fifteen, smart guy,” Sol called back to him.

Mom nodded soberly. “Most of the major colonies are marshalling all forces. They’re even calling up the reserves, for the extra bodies. They need the new recruits sooner rather than later to fill the positions being left open. Don’t worry, Garrus, it’s most likely nothing more than a precautionary measure. Solana just wanted to see you for a few hours before she left.”

“I see that,” Garrus snarked, watching as Sol wandered a little too close to the kitchenette for his liking. “Hey. Kid. Nothing to eat in there. The real food gets served in another building, I can take both of you down there.”

“Do _not_ call me that,” Sol straightened, and turned so she was moving the other way, towards the couch. “But yeah, real food would be great.”

“Enjoy it now,” Garrus said. “The stuff they give you in boot will make you long for protein crumbles.”

“I’ll need to use the washroom,” Mom said, rubbing her hands together. They looked stiffer than usual. “Then that sounds lovely.”

“Yeah, not a problem. You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reassured him with a wan smile, and headed off to the bathroom. When Garrus turned around, Sol was tilting her head and reaching a hand out to the door panel access to his bedroom. In all haste, he dived across the room at her, shoving himself between her and the door.

“ _Still_ no respect for privacy,” he scolded in his sternest elder-brotherly tone. “You need to stay out of my room, even if it’s not back home.”

She startled back at the abruptness of his action, staring at him in bewilderment. Her eyes narrowed in thought, then widened again into huge, slitted ovals. An enormous grin slowly spread across her face, mandibles jutting out wide. She pointed an accusatory finger towards her brother’s face.

“You have a _girl_ in there!” she hissed at him gleefully. His eyes turned into a horrified reflection of her own.

“It wouldn’t be your business if I _did_ ,” he hissed back, then had to intercept here again as she tried to dodge past him.

“I want to meet her!” she squeaked in a maliciously playful whisper as he shoved her back. “Tell her to get dressed!”

“Don’t you d- why are you _like_ this?” he demanded. 

“You’re always having girls over and you never let me meet them!” she giggled, ignoring him.

“That was _once_!” he gritted through his teeth. “One time is not _always_.”

Sol playfully pouted, throwing her head back dramatically. “ _Fine_.” Then she rolled a daring expression over at him. “But. I’m gonna tell Mom.”

“You _won’t_ ,” he snipped back. Adding quickly, “And there’s nothing to tell.”

“You moved pretty fast for ‘nothing,’” she grinned again. “Is she cute? What colony is she from?” Solana gasped like she’d received a revelation. “Is she even _turian_?”

Garrus’ teeth flashed, hackles shooting up. “If you say _anything_ to Mom, the _first_ thing I’m doing once I’m a Spectre is-” 

They both fell silent as their mother returned from the washroom, smiling between the two of them with a wistful, almost sorrowful look.

“Like you were never even apart,” she chuckled, walking forward and wrapping an arm around each of her childrens’ shoulders. Sol shot Garrus one more mischievous, toothy grin behind Mom’s back that he responded to with a baleful glare, before escorting them both down to the cafeteria.

\-----

“Just for curiosity’s sake,” Shepard was asking him as they exited the aircar. “What’s the standard protocol on meeting a partner’s family in your culture? I read a little on it but figure I should ask you directly, after last time.”

“Mm,” Garrus hummed, waiting for her at the curb. “Usually doesn’t happen until things are pretty serious. As in, becoming mates, serious. It’s not uncommon to be seeing someone for years without them meeting your family. I certainly wouldn’t mind introducing you as an associate if you wanted, though. If everything works out with the Academy.”

Shepard’s eyes scanned his face. She must have also picked up on the downcast tone of his voice.

“Everything go all right with that?” Shepard asked as they sauntered parallel to one another across the walk to the bar’s front door. He cleared his throat and heaved an exasperated sigh, not wanting to recount how close his sister had almost brought them to an exceptionally humiliating situation.

“As could be expected,” he said as he held the door for her. An old-fashioned door, with hinges. “But something’s up with the Hierarchy. They haven’t staged a full reporting-in for a long time, over a decade, and they’re doing one now. Normally new recruits are all called up once a year after they turn 15. That’s every citizen coming of age, bar an official exemption, and those aren’t easy to get. But the next round ought to have been a good eight months out. They’re calling them in as we speak.”

Shepard’s expression froze into blank shock. “That sounds pretty serious.”

Garrus nodded and urged her towards the stairway to the private room. “It can be. I can only think of one other time in my life it’s happened, when I was a kid, and Sol was still a toddler. Fortunately, that incident resolved itself without issue. The last one that actually turned into something was when your people and mine tangled, and that sputtered out within weeks. But in conjunction with the recent nastiness with Taetrus and the push for more Spectres, well. Someone high up is worried about something. As in, Primarch high up.”

“No kidding,” Shepard concurred as they reached the room. The table could seat fourteen, and they were expecting up to ten. She pulled out the seat next to the one Garrus had chosen. “Are you worried about your sister?”

“Not at the moment,” he replied. “Boot takes a whole year to complete, and she won’t see full service until then, regardless. Recruits like her will be filling support roles, non-combat duties in between training.”

“That’s a small relief, I guess,” she leaned back in her seat and they exchanged a look. “But still not great news for the rest of the galaxy.”

“We’ll take things as they come,” he said, echoing something he’d heard his dad say sometimes without meaning to. Around that moment, the first of the remaining group started to trickle in. 

Shepard had come up with the brilliant idea to have offered to cover everyone’s tab, which seemed to have done the trick in getting people to show up. Drink orders were made and brought up, and eventually the entire group had arrived. One extra, in fact, as Teg had chanced to bring his brother along. Sen made a quick, appraising glance between Garrus and Shepard, then turned her focus onto her drink. Garrus wondered if he should try talking to her later, make sure they were still on basically good terms. He was well aware from experience he wasn’t always the best at picking up on that kind of interpersonal nuance. Small casual conversations started to pop up between candidates. Teg was taking a particular interest in how passionately Welod and Barati were talking to one another.

“I don’t get it. Are you two sleeping together, or what? I didn’t think salarians, you know, did that.”

Barati glowered at him, but Welod’s head only tilted quizzically.

“Why would we be? We each have our own quarters, and I don’t like being too warm at night.”

“He’s being a cloaca, Wel. Ignore him.” She shot Teg a sneer.

“I mean everyone knows _those two_ are doing it,” he jerked his head in Garrus and Shepards’ mutually mortified direction, “Kandros has that asari chick. And then there’s Sen and-”

“ _Stop_. _Talking_ ,” Sen barked, teeth bared and leaning forward at him. He did so with a muttered excuse into his beer. “ _Dude_ ,” Dax hissed at him from his side.

Garrus cleared his throat as the final straggler, Alenko, found his way in, and suggested to Shepard that they begin before things got too rowdy. Shepard was of an accord, and stood to deliver the news that the gathering was not all that it had seemed. It seemed that most of them had already clued in, based mostly on the full ‘send all’ list in the message header. All in all few of them were even slightly surprised.

“The surveillance devices were planted by the Spectres,” Shepard confirmed. “At least the ones we know about. But the break-ins, explosions, the sabotage, it all points back to one person. Or possibly one of a group of people that may be working together, with or without the help of a Spectre. Our first objective should be to collate all of the evidence we have, collectively.”

“Oh, but I’ve been waiting for this,” Welod pattered happily, nearly bouncing out of his seat. “I was close to setting a meeting up, myself, but Barati said we should wait. I’ve made some charts. It all goes back to the Protheans, believe it or not-”

“That’s awfully helpful, Welod,” Shepard stood, and raised her hands palms-out in a gesture encouraging calm. “And we’ll get to that. But we need to get everyone up to speed first.”

“Yes, yes! That’s what this is for!” He pulled up a display that manifested on the table in front of all of them, a complex web of circles and lines spreading in all directions, written in a salarian dialect. “You see, this one in the center is our first meeting in the ruin. This one is Kyeros and everything I suspect he’s been up to. And this-”

“Kyeros is dead.”

Shepard’s words were solid and cold, and evoked a stunned silence through the whole space. Welod glumly began erasing some of the circles and webs off his chart, and Barati set a supportive hand on his back.

Garrus himself was almost as surprised, not by the news but by how readily and bluntly Shepard had shared it. He hadn’t realized that she was planning on revealing that information so soon, if at all. They’d been ordered not to, though Shepard herself had been ordered not to speak to Garrus about her special mission, and she had. Desperate times, he supposed. Shepard knew what she was doing. He could only hope it didn’t harm their nominations down the line.

“What happened?” Sen asked quietly, the first to break the stillness. She sounded as though she were trying to restrain her delighted interest in the subject.

“Nika Temaru killed him,” Shepard replied to another round of shocked faces. She then launched into a thorough explanation of what had happened, and everything Garrus and herself had surmised through their investigations. Garrus watched a dark rage settle into Sen’s eyes as Shepard detailed their best estimation of how Avitus had been nearly killed, as well. The entire exposition culminated in the explanation that they now needed hard proof if they were going to be able to do anything about it.

“Anyone here who has anything that can help, we need it,” Shepard announced. “And we’re also going to need people who are willing to do whatever it takes to put a stop to her reign of chaos.”

“We could just go kill her. Right now,” Sen growled. “In fact, I’ll be needing a good reason not to.”

“You’ll never be a Spectre and you’ll go to prison,” Leyene volunteered cheerfully. 

“Oh I’ll _be_ a Spectre,” Sen snorted. “As far as prison, I’ll have a solid self defense case, to say nothing about everything else she’s done. Whatever is in her omnitool is going to give us everything we need.”

“It might,” Shepard countered. Garrus recognized a wavering in her voice; she was remembering that Kyeros had had the exact same idea not long ago. “Or it might not. You’re right about at least checking her omnitool, and we’ll need a way to do that. But we have to go about this the right way. We all know exactly what could happen if we don’t.”

“Just because she got Kyeros doesn’t mean she can get us,” Sen parried. “We’ll be on our turf, she won’t be expecting retaliation, and with several of us together-”

“Who exactly are you thinking is on board with doing it your way?” Teg demanded. “Don’t get me wrong, I won’t mind at all seeing this go down. But I for one won’t be participating. Some of us already have secured nominations, and I’m not keen on messing that up.”

“You too?” Welod asked, perking up and seeming to forget the rest of the conversation that had been going on. “I’m first on Bau’s list. It’s as good as a lock.”

“Same with my mentor,” Sen shot back, and Garrus sent a look to Shepard that she returned almost exactly. “I don’t really care. She needs to be dealt with, and soon.”

“We will,” Garrus lifted a hand to interject. “There’s no doubt we will. But Shepard’s right, if we don’t do this right, we’re only going to end up making things worse. Kandros?”

Kandros looked up from where she’d been staring into her drink, a dour frown on her face.

“You’re the closest we have to an ‘in’ with her,” he continued, his voice communicating an acknowledgement of her reluctance. “Or at least with a known associate of hers. Is there anything we can do with that?”

“I’ve tried talking to Ryssa,” she replied. “Anytime I start getting direct with her about Nika, she shuts down. And she refuses to stop seeing her. Says she ‘can’t.’ I know something’s been going on, but I’m not anywhere closer to finding out what.”

“Give me five minutes alone with her,” Sen sneered under her breath. Kandros’ eyes lit up with fire.

“Not happening,” Kandros snapped, and a glare clashed between them. “Nika’s using her, controlling her somehow. It’s not Ryssa’s fault.”

“Why not just act like bygones are bygones and bang Nika with her again? Lot of spying gets done that way,” Teg suggested with a lewd smirk. Dax snorted at his side, and Kandros jumped to her feet. She slammed the end of her military issued Talon into the table, flaring to life with brilliant blue. Teg responded in kind, several of the others pushing back from the table and both Alenko and Leyene also taking up their glow, apparently having the same idea that some shields were about to be called for. Dax was pulling pleadingly on his brother’s arm.

“Shut your stupid face, Tegeres!” Kandros snarled, infuriated. Garrus’ neck prickled and he instinctively readied himself to intervene in some way. His gut reaction involved tackling Teg to the floor and rearranging his face plates on Kandros’ behalf. And a little of his own.

“Stop it!” Shepard barked. She spun on Teg. “That’s exactly the kind of bullshit that’s not going to get us anywhere. Be helpful or be quiet.”

“I _am_ being helpful,” Teg pushed back as both he and Kandros gradually took their seats again. “Okay, look. Yes, I could’ve been more tactful, but in all seriousness that route could work.”

“Go sleep with the crazy bitch yourself, then!” Kandros raged, pulling her Talon from the table.

“You know, I would, except I’d like to keep all of my anatomy properly attached, thanks.”

“Anyone trying that would be putting themselves at serious risk,” Alenko interjected. “We already know she’s willing to kill. There’s no good reason to knowingly put Kandros, or anyone, in harm’s way like that.”

“Excellent point, Lieutenant,” Shepard replied. “So, file it away as an absolutely last-ditch measure that we’re not taking unless someone decides to volunteer.”

There was some grumbling as Shepard surveyed the room. Garrus almost smiled a little, looking up at her. She was nothing if not a natural born leader, a compelling force. It was one of the things he admired most about her. He felt that with Shepard at the helm, there was no challenge they couldn’t overcome.

“What about drugging her?” Barati said. “I have some experience as a medic. I’ve got the programs to synthesize the pharmaceuticals I’d need, and know how to calculate the right dose. I draw the line at trying to seduce anyone, though, someone else has to take that one for the team.”

“I’ll do it,” Leyene sighed in resignation. “As long as it helps Ryssa. If it comes down to that, I mean.”

“Let’s not assume it will,” Shepard replied. “But actually, we might get a little farther with her if you try talking to Ryssa, instead of Kandros. Try dropping the news about Kyeros and our suspicions that Nika’s responsible, see how she reacts to that. She might end up being willing to cough up what we need, or help us get it. We won’t commit to anything more than that unless it’s the only option we have left.”

Leyene mulled that over as she sipped at her Serrice white wine, and nodded slowly.

“Janen,” she said. The Quarian had been rotating an unopened bottle between her fingers, totally silent the entire time. She barely looked up.

“You know my thoughts, Shepard. But, if we could actually end this and get us back to what we’re supposed to be doing, I’ll do what I can.”

“I appreciate that. Would you be willing to get together with Barati in figuring out how to get some specific information out of the terminal?”

Janen appeared to perk up slightly at the suggestion that she wouldn’t be working alone. “I think so. If you have a definitive target, it wouldn’t take us too long to get in and out.”

“Good. I’m going to need Vasir’s personal communications.”

Janen blinked slowly, her glowing eyes fading out and coming back. “Oh. Um. Okay.”

Welod looked disappointed. “What about me?”

“I want you to work with Garrus, in going through your data and finding significant connections. Motives, outside influences, who’s giving who orders. We need to complete as much of this puzzle as we can.”

“Indeed, ma’am!” the salarian’s eyes lit up again.

“Leyene, you’re the only one of us in the same residential building as Nika, so as much direct surveillance as you can manage would be appreciated. What times she’s coming and going, at least, possibly coordination with the rest of us if we need to try and access her room at some point. Alenko can help you out; he’s the one of us least on her radar, and it’s better if none of us is alone in case she catches on and there’s a confrontation.”

“I can do that,” Leyene replied as Alenko nodded along with her.

“Kandros, I want you with me. We’re going to sort out the various instances of sabotage and work on the timeline, figure out what the ultimate goal is once and for all. Teg and Dax, you’re going to be best suited for running interference, keeping Nika distracted if and when we need. Sen, I’d like you to-”

“No,” Sen bit. Shepard scowled lightly. “I’ll stay off her for now, but I’m not getting involved in this asinine little scheme.”

Garrus prickled again, not able to help but wonder how much of her hostility was because of being hampered from the active vengeance she wanted, and how much was...other things.

“We need everyone’s help we can get, Sen,” Garrus urged gently. She glared at him.

“That’s what you’d say to me if it was your _dad_ who barely survived this monster, and she gets to keep walking around out there like she owns the place?”

Garrus started to try and say something, but had nothing that wasn’t at best a half truth, or a rationalization made without actually having something on the line. He looked away, and Sen stood up from her seat.

“Best of luck,” Sen said with a dark tone before turning to leave. “Let me know when everything all goes to hell, and I’ll gladly take it from there.”


	32. Chapter 32

Shepard had invited Garrus back to her room that night as a change of pace. Garrus had jokingly asked her if that meant she was more ‘tolerant of his presence,’ and she’d implied that perhaps not after that specific comment. It was all banter, the rapport they were quickly developing between them. It was going to be insidiously easy to get used to having him around.

Except, now they were two for two on nights they’d spent together, only to awake to someone knocking on the door. This time not the gentle approach of Garrus’ family, but a constant, insistent pounding. Shepard sat upright, disentangling herself from the turian’s arms as he groaned his dissent. She fumbled her way out of the bed to the floor and shuffled into her clothes, on instinct grabbing the charged pistol at her bedside.

Once clear of the bedroom, Shepard half-trotted, half-stumbled her way to open up for whoever was either in serious trouble or about to find themselves some. She hit the access panel and stepped back, lifting the pistol up beside her face. Alenko, of all people, pushed his way in, idly pressing her firearm hand up and away and moving fluidly past her. He was already pulling up his omnitool as he came up alongside the couch.

“Shepard,” he was saying between frantic breaths. “Sorry. You have to see this. _Now_.”

He used his omnitool to bring up a vid on the wall screen in the living room, switching to a news channel that was already mid-breaking story. The first images that bleary-eyed Shepard registered were those of a city on fire. That got her attention in the worst sort of way, and jerked her rudely into the fully-conscious world. The buildings started to look familiar as her eyes panned over the flashing, changing images. Human buildings, she realized, largely the kinds of prefabs and major structures that could be found on pretty much every Earth colony. A terrible flash of memory threatened to drag her mind kicking and screaming back to Mindoir, but she reflexively fell back into her therapeutic techniques and fought it off. Finally she thought to glance down at the headline banner near the bottom of the screen.

_Eden Prime_.

“What is this?” she demanded, not yet having enough context to make sense of what the broadcaster was saying. “What happened?”

“There was an attack, only hours ago. Middle of the night, our time,” he explained. “They’re saying they think it was Geth.”

“ _Geth_?” Garrus demanded from behind her before she had the chance. “That’s bizarre. They’ve kept quiet out in the Veil for hundreds of years. Why now? Why _there_?”

Garrus had joined them in the living room, still in the process of fastening up his tunic. Alenko shifted a little awkwardly at the sight, but ignored the definitive implications and nodded at the questions.

“I’m with you on that. It sounds like the motive was some Prothean relic the local archaeo-xenobiology team unearthed recently. Plans were being made to bring in an auxiliary team from the Council to start researching it. Then the Geth launched an attack out of nowhere, and left with it.”

Shepard’s eyes lingered on the display, some of what was being said finally making sense, but she began to realize the reporting was verging on vague as far as details. She couldn’t help but feel like she should have been there, defending innocent colonists alongside her old unit. She could have done something, saved people. Here she was trying to play Spectre, and meanwhile a large city on a remote human colony had been devastated overnight. She felt helpless, like a terrified 16 year old running crying through a ditch, who didn’t know her parents were dying somewhere, probably believing their child had already been taken by slavers.

She was starting to lose herself in it again when both her and Garrus’ omnitools lit up at the same moment. Checking the message, it was an urgent call-up for both of them to report to the Spectres’ wing. _Now_.

“This doesn’t sound good,” Garrus murmured towards her.

“Hell of a sense of timing,” Shepard spat. 

“I’ll keep an eye on the situation here and give you the rundown later,” Alenko said. “You two should get going.”

\------

They were back in the Presidium Tower-styled lounge area. Or at least, Shepard was back; it was Garrus’ first time here, and he quietly commented on the similarity to the Tower right away in a dull musing. Unlike her, it seemed he’d actually been to the real place at least once. Nihlus was there, standing at the back center of the room maintaining a calm facade. Avitus was sitting to one side of him, leaning forward on his elbows over his knees, his expression perfectly apoplectic. Maerun was seated to his left, looking at anything but the two new arrivals. Vasir and Bau were on Nihlus’ right, lounging in their respective cushioned seats. Shepard immediately noted Saren’s distinct absence, dubious as to whether he would simply have absconded in the middle of an investigation whose outcome he was heavily invested in.

“Is this about Eden Prime?” Shepard demanded, her eyes fixing on Nihlus’. His narrowed flatly in response, but Vasir spoke before he had the chance to rebuff her.

“So funny, Kryik, how you were just lecturing me over a lack of exerting authority over my candidates,” she snarked at him with a false demureness.

“You have absolutely no room to talk,” Rix seethed at her, then turned a quiet glare back on the pair of nominees. It gave Shepard some hope it wasn’t her or Garrus he was enraged about.

“No. This is not about Eden Prime,” Nihlus informed her sternly. “This is about you. Both of you, and whether you still have a right to be here.”

Shepard’s heart leapt up into her throat, and she sensed Garrus’ form tense up sharply beside her. She had an idea of what he was thinking; that their meeting the previous night may have been compromised. That they’d been followed, or watched. Or possibly even had a mole among them, sitting and drinking in their very presence. Shepard was mentally narrowing down the most likely suspects when Nihlus resumed speaking.

“Maerun has finished fully decoding the contents of Kyeros’ omnitool. We’re now fully aware of his process and methods, and precisely how he reached the conclusions he did. Despite how everything ended, he was an adept investigator, and his research was solid. Enough so that it has become clear that both of you are indeed viable suspects in this investigation. Primarily Shepard.”

“ _What_?” Shepard exclaimed on reflex. It was patently absurd, he couldn’t possibly have believed that after everything they’d spoken about, after telling her that he trusted her.

“How long you were able to keep it up was commendable,” Vasir smirked from her reclined position, fist under a cheek. “We’ll give you that.”

“This is bullshit,” Shepard seethed at her, then turned her attention to Nihlus. “What’s the evidence? I have a right to defend myself.”

“It’s far more than one thing or another,” Nihlus replied coolly. “Firstly, Kyeros detailed his suspicions about Vakarian being the force behind tampering with his gear and ranking scores, which is a highly plausible hypothesis if nothing else. However, Kyeros detailed in his notes a far more compelling case that Shepard has been the mastermind behind the greater scheme. Her direct proximity to most of the incidences of sabotage is of particular interest at this point. But the most solid evidence comes in the form of his discovery of directives and commands, traced back specifically to her omnitool.”

It was a deeply uncomfortable thing to be directly, confidently accused of something one knew they were innocent of. Shepard’s reflexive reaction was to start yelling, to lay out every single fact she and her makeshift crew had gathered together at that point. To name the names of those who could vindicate her. But none of that was viable right now, not unless she wanted to dig a hole deep enough to bury herself and Garrus together, as to why they hadn’t heretofore come to Nihlus as she’d agreed.

“Sender codes can be faked,” Garrus protested at her side before Shepard could concoct her own defense. “I worked for C-Sec, I know offhand a half dozen ways it could be done.”

“Checked for that,” Maerun waved a hand. “I know the hallmarks well. Not encouraging that you admit to having those skills, Vakarian.”

“And who checked _your_ work?” Shepard demanded, and Maerun held a hand to his chest as though offended. Shepard hoped she didn’t imagine the faint movement of Nihlus’ eyes to the salarian, the briefest flicker of skepticism in his face.

“Of _course_ I corroborated my findings,” Maerun nearly gasped. “How dare you.”

“That would be me,” Bau said from where he’d been silently observing in a relaxed posture, his fingers laced and one leg casually crossed over the other. “Maerun demonstrated his conclusions with me as soon as he’d reached them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Garrus tried another tactic. Shepard felt a stab of empathy; he was floundering, intent to defend her. “In the end, even Kyeros realized he’d been misdirected, that he had the wrong person.”

For half a second Shepard feared he’d reveal who exactly that wrong person was. She let out the breath she’d been unintentionally holding when he didn’t.

“According to _you_ ,” Vasir retorted pointedly. “Convenient that there were no other witnesses to his alleged change of heart. Nor to what happened between the time you parted ways with Nihlus and when you made it to the ruin. Rix did attest that you vouched for Shepard, Vakarian, but then, I suppose you _would_.”

Shepard was primed to preempt Garrus’ hotheaded response before it happened, her fingers whipping a tap against his wrist before he inadvertently lost control. He had a tendency to act rashly, particularly when he felt especially passionate about something. And Shepard fit that bill to a T.

“If it was me, why the _hell_ would I have brought you to Kyeros’ body in the first place?”

“A very good question,” Rix rumbled in monotone from his seat, not having moved perceptibly since the meeting began.

“Clearly so you could play the hero again as you need so badly to do,” Vasir purred. “And in an attempt to deflect suspicion, all at the same time.”

“The data was badly damaged,” Maerun added in swiftly. “Could have been tampered with. But whoever did must not have realized I’m the very best in the field at such restoration.”

“Blackwatch are notorious for tactics aimed at denying enemies valuable resources in the event of their death or defeat,” Rix parried. “Case in point: Kyeros’ firearm. You should have allowed me to send the data to Barro like I requested. He’d have known exactly how to reconstruct it more accurately.”

“Yes, let’s keep inviting in outsiders to taint the investigation _just_ so we can make allowances for your blatant nepotism,” Vasir rolled her eyes. Shepard noted Rix’s head slowly turning in her direction, his hands clenching and releasing a few times ominously.

Nihlus squared himself up in front of Shepard specifically, his stare cutting into her. But there was something else to it, some unreadable aspect that wasn’t quite obvious. His hostility was blunted; his manner of attack less direct than when he’d actually confronted her. His words and his attitude didn’t align.

“You must realize how badly this looks bad for you, Shepard,” Nihlus stated with flat affect. “And Vakarian by association. If there is anything else you can give me in your defense, I recommend doing it now, before it’s too late to do so. Saren is on his way to the Citadel as we speak. I cannot sacrifice this entire program for you.”

“I don’t-” she essayed, but Garrus had already begun speaking.

“Nika Temaru is doing this,” he interjected bluntly. He then continued, ignoring Shepard’s castigating hiss of his name. “If you need an actual suspect, it’s her. We have enough on her to clear Shepard, if you’ll hear us out. We’ll have her dead to rights in the near future, I’d stake my nomination on it.”

Rix was now staring intently at Vakarian, rapid thoughts churning behind his dark eyes. Vasir shot the other Spectre a sneering look then rose from her seat, scowling at Garrus.

“Says the man who brazenly attacked Temaru with live ammunition in a match, and holds an obvious grudge against her. Very convincing. The woman’s mercurial temperament is no secret to me or anyone else, but it’s been well established she doesn’t have the plethora skills to pull off what you’re claiming.”

“Oh, go to hell,” Shepard barked, finally breaking. This was one bell that couldn’t be un-rung no matter what she did now. “You’ve been covering for her from day one. What are they paying you? Or is it something they have on you?”

“How _cute_ ,” the asari crooned with a grimace. “Look who thinks she’s a little junior league Spectre already. Careful about flinging around baseless accusations like that, Shepard. I don’t think you could handle the consequences.”

“That’s enough!” Nihlus shouted them both down, then turned to his colleagues. “You’re all dismissed. I need to speak with Shepard alone.”

Bau and Maerun were quick to oblige him, but both Rix and Vasir lingered for a moment, each for their own apparent reasons.

“If you can’t deal with this in a way that I’m happy with,” Vasir levelled at Nihlus, “don’t be surprised when I’m forced to throw my lot in with Arterius, little as I’ll enjoy _that_.”

Nihlus didn’t give her the dignity of a response. Once she was gone, Rix turned to look at Garrus.

“Vakarian. With me.”

Garrus looked to Shepard again before obeying, his expression full of apology and longing to explain himself. Shepard already understood why he’d done what he did, even if she wasn’t entirely enthused by his Hail-Mary style decision to reveal their perp’s identity prematurely. Especially to the very individual Shepard was sure was holding the leash. But she could deal with this, she knew she could. She didn’t have another choice, at any rate.

“Explain yourself, Shepard.” Nihlus was approaching her. 

“I haven’t done anything except what I was asked to do,” Shepard retorted.

“Do not _lie_ to me,” Nihlus hissed, approaching her suddenly. His expression was angry, but overlaid like a veneer over a foundation of fear, worry. He breathed slowly, heavily into her face.

“We agreed to a mutual. _Trust_. That you would come to me _first_. And _this_ is how much respect you choose to give that agreement. I get to hear, not even from you, but from the very one you were directly instructed not to involve, what you’ve both been up to. You’ve been deliberately concealing information from me, divulging what was not yours to divulge, holding secret meetings. You’ve as well as stabbed me in the back.”

“I didn’t have another choice,” Shepard replied on the defensive. “Your staff is compromised. I was always going to come to you, but when there was no more possibility of one of them interfering and undoing all our work.”

“You could have _communicated_ that to me,” he snarled lightly.

“I could have,” Shepard acknowledged. “And I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“I’m not inclined to forgive you so readily,” he huffed at her. “Shepard. If you weren’t still the most optimal choice for my nomination, if I hadn’t already put so much on the line for you…”

“Whether you elect to put my name forward or not,” she came back. “I’m going to finish this. That’s what I do. I didn’t defy you lightly, but at some point you have to allow me to make my own calls.”

“I _have_ to do no such thing,” he ranted. “Shepard, do you take me for that much of an idiot? Do you think I don’t actively realize that there are enemies inside this house? Of course there are! I’ve served alongside and been familiarized with the others on my staff for over a decade, I know exactly what each of them is capable of. I selected who I did because they are the best at what they do, not because we were all personal friends.”

“If you know other Spectres are working against you, why not do something about it yourself?”

“If only it were that simple. Do you know what happens when two Spectres are set at odds? It begins as a vicious tit for tat, then vengeance stacked on vengeance, until it eventually devolves into all-out war. If I interfere with someone else’s nomination, they will surely find a way to interfere with mine as recourse. And from there, either I back down, or it escalates.”

Shepard caught his meaning immediately. He could take care of this issue in a heartbeat, but there would be fallout. In Shepard’s case, she could consider her nomination as good as gone. He likely had had his own suspicions that she was only now catching up on, but could do little about himself. Nihlus was sighing and rubbing a knucke against the space between his brow plates.

“Shepard, I swear to you,” he said, “this is not some secret test of your own independent ingenuity. I need you to work _with_ me. This is a crucial moment for everything that will follow. Not just for the Academy, but for the galaxy. Eden Prime is only the beginning. Do you finally understand?”

Shepard started to breathe heavily, chest swelling with tightness. “What do you know about that?”

“Not a damn thing more than you,” he retorted. “Except that it is a herald of what is coming.”

“For the same reason the Hierarchy is enacting a full reporting-in.”

“ _Now_ she starts to get it,” he hissed sarcastically as he paced the room, tranquilly falling pink leaves defying the otherwise tense atmosphere. “And don’t so much as try to tell me I should have said something sooner, lest I be forced to remind you of your hypocrisy. You’ll need to be a Spectre recruit before everything I could explain about the grander scheme is relevant to you.”

Shepard grumbled inwardly, knowing he was right and not being at all pleased about it. Her decisions had made perfect sense to her at the time, even if they weren’t the best decisions overall. She took a deep composing breath, her eyes following him as he stopped a ways away from her, facing the far wall’s tall, violet-tinted windows.

“We’re close,” she said, retreating to a safer topic. “We know it’s her, and we’re going to have the proof we need soon.”

“ _‘We,’_ ” he groused. “Didn’t take you long to collect yourself a team.”

“Of a sort. But it’s going to get a lot more done, and faster, than on my own. I do my best work that way.”

“We both had better hope so,” he replied, still intent on not turning to look at her. “As of today, we’re running perilously short on time.”

Shepard’s brows knitted. “How so?”

“I don’t see the program finishing out these last few weeks. Even the next one or two. We may only have days. Matches are officially cancelled, by the way, so that should free up a few hours for you to work with.” He heaved a small, dismal sigh, putting on a tired satire of his announcement voice. “Your schedules should be updated by morning.”

“A few days it is,” Shepard agreed. “And the next thing I should have for you is a hog-tied super biotic willing to spill on everyone she can, just to save herself.”

“Your optimism has lost much of its inspirational quality lately,” Nihlus replied in a low voice. “Dismissed, Shepard.”

  
\----

Outside, Garrus was waiting for her. He started trying to apologize profusely, but she waved him along, not so much as stopping as she moved past him.

“What did Rix want?”

Garrus cleared his throat, falling into step with her as she marched her way back down the halls that led out towards the main building.  
  


“Confirmation on what we had on Temaru, mostly,” he conceded. “I have a bit of a bad feeling about what he might be planning to do next.”

“Well, if he decides on his own to take her out that will solve a pretty big problem for us. Leave behind a bunch of bigger problems, though. Like who’s behind her.”

“I may have mentioned that to him, or tried to. Also tried to put it in his head that he’s not back to his full capacity, not yet fit for a big throw-down like that. He lost interest in our conversation at that point.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t catch wind that Sen is on the same page,” Shepard sighed. Garrus straightened at the thought.

“Spirits, I hadn’t thought of that. Well, let’s assume we don’t have long to sort this out.”

“Assume, nothing. Nihlus openly said as much. I need you to get started with Welod, I’ll find Kandros and do the same. Let everyone else know it’s go time.”

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” he muttered bitterly.

They were passing the dual cafeterias when Shepard’s attention was snagged by a large crowd of mostly turians gathering around the wall vid screen. An enraged turian woman in garb that for her kind looked ostentatious, and wore familiar violet face markings, was speaking emphatically through the screen.

“-and blamed on a son of Taetrus, by Palaven itself, refusing to believe the fault could lie with one of their own. And so they exiled him. News has reached me that this man has now been brutally murdered, at the very Academy at which he was training to become the first Taetran Spectre. A representation of our hopeful sovereignty and strength, mercilessly stomped down by oppressors. Taetrus’ own rising star, extinguished without a thought. We demand action. We demand justice. We demand a free Taetrus, in his name! The spirit of Kyeros Quillan shall rally and lead us to this end!”

A roaring cry rose up from an unseen crowd before her, and was abruptly silenced by the screen cutting back to startled broadcasters rushing to react. A pirated interruption.

“So,” Garrus sighed. “I’m fairly sure that would be Facinus. Separatist terrorist group, you can guess based out of where. Like I was saying...”


	33. Chapter 33

“So,” Garrus said, filling in a few details on Welod’s chart where it had been brought up on the wall screen. He’d come on invitation to the salarian’s room, which surprised him by how thoroughly decorated the place was with personal belongings. “Protheans, huh? They went extinct in some big war tens of thousands of years ago, I thought.”

“Ooh, yes!” Welod replied excitedly. “All goes back to them. Turians get their war philosophy from them, you know.”

Garrus paused and gave Welod a scrutinizing look. “How do you figure?”

Welod chuckled. “It all started around the time of the Unification War, when your facial markings tradition began. Asari and Salarians were already forming the Council, of course. Well, the Hierarchy originally intended to stay out of the colonial inter-conflicts-”

“Well, yes,” Garrus interrupted. “I know all of that. Every turian does.”

“But!” Welod held up a finger. “You _don’t_ know that a Prothean war relic was found around that time, on Digeris. Within only a few years afterward, the Unification War was ended decisively.”

“Yeah,” Garrus corrected him. “The war ended because the Hierarchy held back until the in-fighting had weakened all of the remaining chieftains, then moved in to consolidate them into one governed unit.”

“The official story, sure. Not as convincing from an outside perspective. The Prothean relic inspired the then-Primarch. Not unlike a spiritual ancestor, if you will. Changed the early Hierarchy’s wartime practices to that of all-out war and attrition, and led to more efficient tactics. They did make some adaptive changes, preferring an approach somewhat less brutal than Prothean warfare; more apt to unconditionally accept surrender and to always prioritize protecting the young. Protheans weren’t so...merciful. Didn’t help them in the end, anyway.”

“How do you mean?”

Welod shrugged and continued writing on the chart, even as he lectured like an ancient-history professor. “They won their final war, a struggle against a massive insurrection, but still went extinct. Not enough surviving members to repopulate, even with their advanced technology. That, and probably other still-unknown confounding factors. Hierarchy indubitably handled their Unification better, but they also weren’t the rulers of the entire galaxy at the time. More subjects always means greater difficulty in ruling, or subjugating.”

Garrus thought over that for a minute. “So where did this relic go, then, and how do you know about it?”

“Citadel Archives, most likely. It’s where all other Prothean tech goes eventually. The usual hush-hush. As for how I know about it, how many times do I have to tell everyone I’m the youngest brother in a family rife with STG agents?”

“And they just, _tell_ you these things.”

“Every family gathering,” Welod said in forlorn exasperation. “Sometimes I wish we’d gossip about extended family members and public figures like normal people. But. Alas.”

“All right. Well, assuming you’re right, how does this tie in to what’s going on here?”

“Oh. Not that, directly, but Protheans, yes. Their tech is the foundation of our current galactic government, after all. Now everything is falling apart out there, and that is why everything is falling apart here. Same motivations, same influences. Whoever is behind the chaos being sown, I’m sure has exactly the same rationale to disrupt the Council’s attempted response to the chaos.”

“I can see what you’re saying,” Garrus nodded, pointing to a few of the circles and lines he’d added to the chart. “Someone just absconded from a human colony with newly-unearthed Prothean tech, so that tracks. And now the Hierarchy is mobilizing, and it may have everything to do with the announcement of a rebellion being ignited by Facinus on Taetrus. Someone leaked the information on Kyeros to them, and there’s only a handful of people who would have known. It had to have come from here.”

“Hm. Yes. Especially bad if a prominent Palaveni native like you makes Spectre. Politically, anyway.”

That thought twisted a knot right into Garrus’ gut. He hadn’t looked at it from that angle. Something he had utterly no control over could end up helping throw accelerant onto the rising embers of volatile unrest. The same way Kyeros was being held up as a martyr, he could end up being held up as a symbol of the alleged oppressors. The uncaring unfairness of it made him feel a little ill. Oh, how he hated politics.

“Maybe it’s also a distraction,” he replied, “a ploy to take attention away from the attack on Eden Prime and the theft of that relic. Someone trying to scoop up Prothean tech, and somehow got the Geth to work with them to do it.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Welod squeaked. “Brilliant! Some Prothean relics vanished from a salarian bunker, as well, several months ago. Was presumed to be a simple misplacement, at first, but after a full audit they’ve been classified as missing.”

Garrus paused, lowering his stylus. “I thought you said all that tech ended up in the Archives. Why did the salarians still have that?”

“Oh,” Welod blinked, a tight wince spreading across his face. “Well. Uh. Most species’ governments have small caches of less strategically important Prothean tech. I’m…sure. Almost certainly. Mm-hm.”

“Sure,” Garrus replied skeptically, then filed that away and pointed over to another circle with the back end of his stylus. “This one here. The Shadow Broker? I heard that name come up in a few of my cases back in C-Sec.”

Those cases had included one early in his career, where a suspect his father had collared offered to give up everything he knew about the Broker in exchange for immunity. He ended up vanishing from his cell that night before he could give his deposition. Garrus had all but forgotten about that until now; it had been assumed someone on the force must have been on the take and helped him escape. There had been some Internal Affairs involvement, but no one had ever been pegged for it. Something about it had never sat quite right with him about the whole thing, but a steady stream of new cases eventually put it out of his head.

“Ah, yes. My primary suspect. Who else would have the resources and information to orchestrate division on every feasible front? And I’m all but certain he must have his hooks in a Spectre or two, at least. And of course those Spectres would end up at the Academy, if he wanted them here.”

“I see your point. But still, why? What could he, or anyone, possibly stand to gain from an all-out galactic civil war?”

“Power!” Welod shouted with a grin, raising his stylus in the air, then coughed into his hand a relaxed again. “Think about it. Imagine the same thing the Hierarchy did with its colonies, but instead with every current galactic culture. Let them fight it out, weaken themselves and one another. Whoever comes out on top of this would be in a position to control all of them, meaning _that’s_ who our little chessmaster must be.”

“...Chessmaster?”

“Oh. Sorry. Chess, human strategy game, Barati taught me. Deceptively complex. You’d enjoy it. That, and _Go_.”

Garrus scanned over the ever-growing expanse of the chart with deep concern. If everything Welod was saying was right, he was starting to find himself skeptical that even thirty new Spectres were going to be enough to help combat against this kind of plot. Especially when getting Spectres to be of an accord on anything, or rooting out infiltrators from among them, appeared to be next to impossible. Even in the face of an existential threat to the Council, not to mention every single species’ governments.

Garrus started to make a few more connections beneath his detailing of the Hierarchy’s impending conflict. Were it to go beyond Taetrus, and in the right circumstances it very well could, the catastrophic splitting of the Hierarchy and its military might would leave an enormous power vacuum. The Volus would all but certainly take the opportunity to leverage their aid in exchange for that which would ameliorate their own interests. The Krogan had to be salivating at the thought of a weakened Hierarchy. And as the most prominent faction of military force for the Citadel, an internal civil war would effectively hamstring the Council’s defenses. It was as brilliant as it was diabolical. And by all accounts it hadn’t taken all that much to pull off these first steps; just a few key morsels of insider knowledge, and a nudge here or there.

Garrus had a hunch that all of this must have been most of what the Spectres already knew. Now they needed to put together how this factored into what was going down at the Academy.

“Let’s assume the Shadow Broker then, for argument’s sake. Someone’s controlling Temaru, in a loose manner of speaking, and someone’s controlling that Spectre. Shepard thinks it’s Vasir, which I’m on board with. But there’s also the back door that was left in the Academy’s terminals, and I’m not convinced Vasir would have had the ability or opportunity for that.”

“Which tells us Vasir isn’t working alone,” Welod nodded, holding a fist under his chin. “Both Bau and Maerun are former STG, that would have been easy for either one of them. I wouldn’t normally suspect Bau, but I suppose anything is possible at this juncture.”

“This is pretty bad. Spectres are supposed to be the ones protecting and preserving the Council. Now it turns out there may be some of them helping rip it apart from the inside.”

“Hm,” Welod agreed with a dismal tone. “And doing a rather good job of it.”

“Well, we just won’t let them win,” Garrus replied, borrowing a page from Shepard’s book of morale-boosting strategies. Chapter one: Unreasonable confidence, even if you have to fake it. “Even if we have to bring down some Spectres in order to do it.”

Welod’s face took on a faint smile, one that faded abruptly as shouting from outside rose to a higher decibel, culminating in a gunshot. Both men ran for the living room window overlooking the courtyard. Off to the east and near Garrus’ own building was a crowd of a few dozen candidates, every one of them turian. Throwing the window open wider, he could hear more clearly, magnifying the group with his visor to get a better look. 

At its center, Dax was on the ground, clutching his abdomen, Teg pressing an additional hand on an apparent gunshot wound and activating a medigel pack. His head whipped up away from his brother and towards the ostensible gunman, pistol still in a tight grip though pointed now at the ground. Teg’s free hand lifted, his omnitool manifesting a fabricated simulacrum of the clawed gauntlet Cabal soldiers were infamous for.

“You’ll die for that, bastard!” Teg’s voice echoed from far away. Garrus could make it in time to prevent another senseless act, if he hurried.

“Wait, wait, wait!!” Welod tried to protest as Garrus found himself flying right out the window, leaping nimbly from window frame to window frame on the way down before sprinting his way to the scene of the conflict. He should have thought to borrow a sidearm from Welod. No, not enough time. Another man could be badly injured or dying by then. Unacceptable, no matter how callously obnoxious Teg could be at times.

He used a shoulder to shove his way roughly through the bystanders until he reached the center, grabbing Teg just as he was making a rush towards his enemy, who was preparing to fire again. He was just able to grab Teg by the shoulders from behind, turning him aside and using his momentum to throw him to the ground in a roll, then stagger to his own stop. Once he was sure the man was safely down, he turned to face the shooter, keeping himself between them. At least a half dozen other turians in the crowd had pistols in their hands or were reaching for those on their hips, just that he could see in front of him. They had been on the brink of a bloodbath.

“Are you actually insane?” he demanded between panting. “What the hell are you thinking?!”

Some of the others beyond stood down, but the man directly in front of him stayed on alert. The man had distinctively ornate Aephus markings, near-black plating and sharp golden eyes. Garrus shortly recognized him from back in their sparring evaluations; Vastan Caebrio.

“Mind your business, Vakarian,” Caebrio warned. “And let these cowardly traitors fight their own battles.”

The statement confirmed his suspicions in an instant. This was all the result of the guerilla broadcast earlier that morning. There was no doubt in his mind that this was but one example of the desired effect the vid was meant to have. And even further back in the chain of consequence, the leak about Kyeros. Even dead, the man was dangerous.

“Colony politics aren’t meant to matter here,” Garrus rebuffed him, then turned to Teg. The man had made it back to his feet and was trying to angrily shove his way past Garrus, who held him back. “Stop this!”

“This bare-faced Altakiril trash is a damned Separatist sympathizer,” Caebrio spat, snarling down at the man he’d shot in the midsection. “Both of them.”

Teg’s teeth flashed, and Garrus had to lean harder into him to hold him back. Teg had the slightest edge on Garrus in terms of mass, and a much larger edge in terms of umbrage, so it wasn’t easy. Welod had slipped his way all but unnoticed through the bloodthirsty crowd and was resuming Dax’s unfinished need for first aid. He hadn’t brought a gun either, that Garrus could see. Damn.

“That’s a load of _nathak_ shit!” Teg hissed. “I don’t give a damn about Taetran politics. You just can’t fathom that not all of us are keen to lick Palaven boot, either!”

“ _Stop_ ,” Garrus urged, eyes darting about. Not a Spectre in sight, even several minutes after the sound of gunfire. A bad sign. “This is what they _want_!”

“They?” Caebrio demanded from behind him. “And who exactly are _they_?”

Garrus turned his attention to the Aephusian. “The same people who want Taetrus to rebel, and for the Hierarchy to mobilize in response. No one who gives a damn about any of us, regardless of sides. You’re not accomplishing anything besides being their puppet!”

“Weren’t you in tight with Quillan?” someone in the crowd demanded. “Sympathizer,” another spat. Caebrio’s pupils shrank, his face twisting into revulsion.

“You’re not any different than them, are you?” he demanded. “Worse. A traitor born right out of Cipritine itself. You shame your bloodline.”

“The _hell_ I do,” Garrus snapped in return. On one hand, perhaps it was good he didn’t have a sidearm; he’d likely be far too tempted to have used it after that vile accusation. On the other, he didn’t have much in the way of defense right now if Caebrio opted to escalate further. “You’re being played like a fool. If you keep this up, you’re going to lose your chance for a nomination, and maybe your life.”

“That a threat?” Caebrio demanded, starting to raise his pistol again. A patch of ground just in front of his feet exploded, sending him and a handful of others jumping back. Garrus and Teg both turned their heads at once, seeing Senairis walk steadily towards them, her longrifle up and aimed right at Caebrio’s face. 

“Disperse. _Now_ ,” she growled. “Or when Spectre Rix gets here, I’ll be asking him which ones of you he cares to keep breathing and which he doesn’t.”

“Just on your say so, Triginta Pe-?”

Another shot cracked from her rifle, the shot buzzing past Caebrio’s head. A reminder of just what such a firearm would do to his unprotected head at practically point-blank range.

“Yes, because _Senairis Rix_ and her M-29 Incisor say so!” she bellowed.

Most of the crowd got the message immediately, filtering away in as little of a hurry as one would expect from a pack of turians who’d been spoiling for a fight. Caebrio and a few others lingered even longer, as though their grudging scowls were going to accomplish anything beyond assuaging their own egos. After the last of them had left, Welod was helping Dax up. Garrus released Teg once the threat had well and fully passed, making his approach to Sen to thank her. She shoved him hard once he was within reach, sending him staggering back.

“Don’t _fucking_ do that again,” she snarled. “Coming out here without a gun? Are you serious right now?”

“There wasn’t time,” Garrus defended himself. “Teg was-”

“About to get himself killed like a _moron_ ,” she preempted his words, seething and spinning a glare on Teg. Then she turned her vitriol on Dax. “And _you_. You're the one who started this to begin with, Audaxis. Aren’t you?”

She’d spun on Dax, still guarding his injury with an arm and leaning his weight on his brother. He looked away from her. 

“I...they were having some kind of dumb rally about the insurrection. And in between the shouting and chanting, one of them said ‘for Palaven,’ so I, you know, said ‘fuck Palaven.’ To be funny. And you know, because seriously, fuck those self-righteous pricks.” He sent a sheepish look to Garrus. “No offense. Anyway, it all kind of went downhill from there. People can’t take a joke.”

“Feckless fools,” Sen snarled again, her eyes sweeping the twins and then landing on Garrus. 

“Hey,” Garrus protested. “I was trying to _stop_ this.”

“Un. Fucking. Armed!” she jammed an accusing finger in his face. “Teg, get your idiot brother to the damn med clinic already. Dax, you remember that comment I made about having a place for you on my team? I only made that offer to piss off your brother. You can forget it.”

“Naw, Sen,” Dax pleaded, his eyes widening. “Come _on_.”

“Forget her, Dax,” Teg assured him, pulling him away. “We agreed you and I would stay together as a team if only one of us made Spectre. We made that silly pact about it and everything.”

Dax turned, reaching back for her. “It was just a lark, ba-”

Sen raised her rifle his way, and he shut up. “Keep. Walking.”

“Shouldn’t we all wait for Avitus?” Garrus asked as Teg and Welod helped Dax limp away.

“He’s not coming,” Sen collapsed her rifle and returned it to its place on her back. “He’s pretty busy right now; they all are. That was what we in the industry call a ‘bluff.’”

Garrus blinked. “You went and let everyone know that the two of you are family. _That_ wasn’t a bluff.”

“Yeah, well,” Sen shrugged mildly. “Doesn’t seem like it’s going to really be an issue that much longer. And it kept you from getting vented.”

“Right,” Garrus replied softly. “Thanks for that. And, while we’re here, I’m sorry for...everything.”

Her face contorted momentarily into confusion, then morphed into bland understanding. “Oh. You mean your thing with Shepard.”

Garrus shifted. “That. Yes. For what it’s worth, I wasn’t lying when I told you we weren’t a thing. That was true. When I said it, I mean.”

“I figured,” she sighed, then coughed a half-hearted laugh. “You’ve seriously been stressing about that?”

“A little,” he admitted. “I like you, Sen. I’m looking forward to working with you in the future, as Spectres. You know, as long as we’re still good. Maybe keeping up a little friendly competition over our mission success rates.”

“Hey, if you want to subject yourself to that humiliation,” she chuckled again. “And yeah, Vakarian, we’re good. It’s not like you were trying to lead me on, or anything. That would have been bad for your health.”

“I believe it. Anyway, you sure you don’t want to change your mind, and work together on this thing? We’re making some really good headway.”

“Positive. I’ve got a few things going myself in that direction, anyway. And as far as your girlfriend goes,” he leaned in as she approached him sidelong, dropping her voice and whispering against his ear with a coy smile. “Better tell her to watch herself.”

Garrus tensed. “Uh. Would you mind clarifying exactly how you mean that?”

She smirked and raised a brow plate back at him over her shoulder, and kept walking. Then Garrus' omnitool pinged, with a message from Kandros that sent him running.

One crisis to another. He wasn't a Spectre yet, but he thought this must be what it felt like.


	34. Chapter 34

Captain Anderson was taking forever to pick up, even though she’d had the call marked as ‘emergency’. She hoped like hell he wasn’t so busy as to not be able to answer within the next hour or so.

Shepard was in a downtown Extranet cafe, not having expected such a long-distance quantum entanglement call to go through on their system to begin with. It wouldn’t have been sanctioned on the compound, as far as she knew, but it was disconcertingly simple to accomplish in town. It did also occur to her that if it were this easy for her to get around those sorts of communication restrictions, so could anyone else. Especially Nika.

“Shepard,” a fatigued Anderson’s voice finally drifted across the line. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine. Eden Prime isn’t. Hit me with the sitrep, I don’t have a lot of time. Sir. It’s almost twenty credits a minute out this far.”

“The Alliance can afford to eat that,” Anderson replied with a brisk snort. “I’ve been wanting to reach out, but couldn’t. Damn, but it’s good to hear from you. So you heard about Eden Prime?”

“Why I called, Sir.”

“I didn’t know how much information you were allowed to have up there. But yes, the situation has been rapidly deteriorating out this way. Tell me what you already know.”

“Colony attack. Prothean tech taken. First Geth sighting in a few hundred years. Also, there’s a whole other thing going on here at the Academy that could potentially end the program before any of our names are put forward. So that’s fun.”

Anderson blinked hard for a few seconds, taking it in. “Sounds like you’re having the same kind of time we are right now. I don’t have a lot more for you about the colony strike. Intel thinks the motive may have been to keep the relic out of human hands, specifically. Mars has been on high alert since. A lot harder to hit a fully staffed military base than a bunch of unprepared civilians.”

Shepard did her best not to freeze up a little at his last comment. Time to focus.

“You’re not kidding. Why take the relic? What was its strategic value?”

“It can take years for even the best experts to decrypt the data in Prothean technology. It hadn’t been unearthed for more than a week before Eden Prime was hit. So the long and short of it is we have no way to know, and whoever was behind taking it either didn’t care, or had information we don’t. There is one other thing. Williams, she one of the other human candidates? She returned to her unit a few weeks ago, the 212. They were down there when it happened.”

Shepard sat forward intently. “Is she okay?”

“Status unknown, last time I checked. We’re still sorting through who we’ve lost and who’s MIA.”

_Damnit_ , the sharp thought stabbed through Shepard’s mind. “So how the hell do the Geth come into play, here?”

“No idea yet. Nothing more than conjecture, anyway.”

“Then give me that.”

Anderson grumbled and the vid image shifted and bounced erratically, like he’d been laying down and was now sitting up. “Have you heard of a Spectre named Saren Arterius?”

Shepard’s blood ran cold, the back of her neck prickling uncomfortably. Something had set her off about Saren from the beginning, but this was far beyond anything she could have guessed.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” She whispered in astonishment. “Sir.”

“Feel free to cut the formalities, Shepard. You're not technically enlisted right now. And I’ll take that as a yes. No one else is looking in that direction, but I have some personal experience with him that’s enough to convince me. No clue why the Geth would be doing his bidding, but time will tell.”

Shepard frowned, her thoughts working overtime to come up with a response. “You’re going to speak with the Council about all of this, right?”

“Have. They’re already doing everything they can to downplay the attack, telling us it’s our own fault and that the Geth presence was just a coincidence. I doubt they’d take an accusation of their favorite Spectre too seriously.”

“ _Damnit_ ,” Shepard hissed, out of righteous frustration even though it still felt odd to say to her old CO’s face. 

“Give it to me straight, Shepard. Is your Spectre nomination really looking that bad?”

Shepard groaned into her hands. “A few days ago it was practically guaranteed. Today, it’s totally up in the air unless I can get this thing figured out.”

“Let’s see if I have anything that can help. Give me the rundown.”

Shepard did, summarizing as best she could. Anderson frowned more deeply the longer she spoke. Watching the call timer, he was going to be frowning even more when his own boss got a look at the bill that was being run up.

“If what you’re guessing is right, I’d say that sounds just like Cerberus.”

Shepard squinted in thought. “That’s...they were an Alliance Black Ops group once, right?”

“Disavowed for years now, but yes. If anyone had the will and means to come up with a human experiment like that, it would be them. Creating a biotic super soldier would be right up their alley. In fact, I’d be a lot more surprised if she was the only one they have.”

“But why would they be working with an asari Spectre?” Shepard shook her head. “Or anyone non-human, for that matter?”

“If that was the only way to get their asset into the Spectre program, sure they would. They’re opportunists without principle. They’ll make whatever deal or take whatever action that furthers their goals.”

“Those goals being?”

“They claim to be a force for protecting humanity from outside threats. Alien threats. But I haven’t seen a group of any alien race do practically anything as horrible to humans as these people do to their test subjects.”

“Sounds about right,” Shepard sighed. 

“Give me a minute and I’ll send you a general list of their suspected activities. Incidents they were found to have been involved in or strongly suspected. I’ll see if there’s anything intel has on this Temaru and send you that, too. Anything other way I can help?”

“You’ve done more than enough, Sir,” Shepard made a wry smile. 

“What did I tell you about that ‘Sir’ business? And anything, if it means giving you the best chance, Shepard. You deserve this position. I mean that.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“And Shepard?”

She had been reaching for the ‘end call’ option and stopped, raising her brows at him.

“Don’t forget. This ship’s waiting for its Commander to make us all proud.”

Shepard actually smiled then, her first real smile in days. She saluted him. It felt damned good to have someone so totally on her side again, especially someone who not only had the means to aid her but viewed it as an honor to do so. Even were she to be a Spectre and technically be removed from the chain of command, she could be confident the Alliance would always have her back. At the very least, her former Captain would.

“Can do, Anderson.”

\-----

Shepard was running a little late thanks to traffic. Once she’d gotten to Kandros’ room, an easy find as it was next door to Garrus’, the woman had been waiting long enough that she had plenty to share. The turian started to lay out a series of datapads, each with its own categories and spreadsheets. She got Shepard caught up on the timeline she’d put together, and began to point out the patterns. She built her way up to the most significant matter in front of them- the hardest evidence they had.

“Here’s the day Welod took a bomb to the chest,” Kandros said. “I looked all over and couldn’t find anything else of significance happening that day. Until Janen came to me with something. See, the whole compound runs off one big power grid, and it records each locale and their respective power draws, for maintenance. The other day when Janen was poking around in the servers, she noticed their draw start surging, for just under fifteen minutes.”

“So what would cause something like that?”

“In the servers? Sending or receiving a _really_ big data package,” Kandros replied off-hand.

“As in, that’s what you think it was?”

“That’s about the only thing it could be. So anyway, I had her go back to the bombing. Sure enough, just a few minutes after it happened, there was a power surge. There were also a few other incidents we never heard about, for the same reason no one else heard about ours. Every time, power draws.”

“So, Nika did that as a distraction for….what, exactly?”

“Our best guess, she was breaking into the servers and sending someone a lot of information. Just about exactly once a week. If I had to guess, though, she also probably just likes hurting people.”

“That’s without question,” Shepard muttered. 

“The only thing I don’t know now is what the purpose was behind her targeting Quillan in particular.”

“Pretty sure that was meant to throw off the Spectres,” Shepard replied. “Get someone to point the blame at Garrus and me. We just got called to the carpet over it just this morning. Only avoided being ejected thanks to Nihlus sticking his neck out by giving us time to finish this.”

“Ah, that makes sense. We’d best hurry then. But this is pretty solid, right? If we manage to find some security footage, or even catch her in the act...”

“Vasir had to have warned her off by now,” Shepard bit at her lip. “She’s going to be more careful. And she’d have known about any cameras she needed to avoid.”

“Still. We’re close.”

Shepard’s omni-tool pinged with an urgent call from Shohreh Barati. She pulled it up while Kandros mulled over the rest of her data. She didn’t even get a chance to greet the other soldier, who started speaking immediately.

“Shepard,” Barati’s alarmed voice was pitched high, and sounded like she’d been running. “Small problem. So, we did the thing. The one that we talked about.”

“What?” Shepard demanded. Kandros’ brow plates rocketed upward and she leaned in to hear better.

“Yeah. Leyene talked to Ryssa and got her on board, okay? And after your message we thought, well let’s just move now. We used my idea. Nobody had to be, um, sleeping, with anyone. But long story short, it worked- sort of.” 

“‘Sort of,’” Shepard replied with heavy concern.

“Yeah, for like, thirty seconds. Then she came back out of it before we'd even cracked her omnitool decryption. Her metabolism is no joke, turns out. She should have been down for hours. Anyway, she got up, and when she figured out what we did we were all sure there was about to be a throwdown. But, she just laughed like we were all her sorority sisters and we’d pranked her good. And then she said something about going to find you, and left. Thought you’d want a heads-up.”

“Thanks,” Shepard responded. “Don’t follow her. I’ve got it. And don’t leave Ryssa alone, Nika's definitely the retribution type.”

“Roger,” Barati replied, and the line cut out.

“That’s _really_ not good,” Kandros breathed.

“No kidding,” Shepard huffed and looked up at Kandros. “Stay here, all right?”

“Sure,” Kandros sighed reluctantly in return. Shepard strode back into the hallway, making good time on the way back to her room and mentally prepping herself for the worst. She could handle this, but it would be a good idea to be armed and maybe in her armor first. She picked up speed as she went, jogging by the time she reached her building and running by the time she reached her floor. She reached her doorway and hit the access panel, thinking at the last minute that she hoped Nika hadn’t taken the opportunity to turn that into a bomb, too. The door light flashed orange, making a weird noise before it opened.

And there was Nika, standing in the middle of her living room. 

She stood with her back to Shepard, gazing placidly out the window. She didn’t jump or startle at the door opening; she’d been waiting here just for this. Shepard’s barrel went up in a reflexive instant, honing in on the back of Nika’s head. 

“Turn around slowly,” she ordered. Nika did not.

“If you wanted to talk to me, you just should have said so. Instead of sending people to drug me and stuff. That was _rude_.”

“I won’t tell you again.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” the woman replied in a sweetly casual tone, finally following Shepard’s direction, in her own, contemptuous way. “But between us, you’re a little too late.”

“That remains to be seen,” Shepard replied, slowly approaching. “Let’s chat about what the hell you’re doing in my damn quarters. And then about what you and Vasir are planning.”

Nika’s eyes looked the slightest bit sleepy, or maybe like she was a little high. Not at all the reaction one would expect out of someone with a gun in their face. She must still have been processing the remnants of Barati’s drug cocktail. 

“Fuck, that took you, like, _forever_ ,” Nika giggled. “But like I said, you’re too late. Tell you what, though. You should take a load off, relax. Focus on your own shit, for your own mental and physical well-being. It’s just going to be worse for everyone if you keep trying to come at me.”

“Not going to happen,” Shepard hissed. Veiled threats were far from a surprise, but even Nika couldn’t be stupid enough to think she could coerce Shepard into standing down. “This all ends with you in a cell. Or a box.”

Nika chuckled again and rolled her eyes. She then spread her hands wide out from her sides. “Go on then, Sheppy girl. Do it. I’m right here, see? No armor, no gun, nowhere to go. Probably couldn’t even bring up a barrier fast enough to beat you to the trigger. But you won’t. Will you?”

Shepard was seriously regretting finding and removing that listening device from her room. Even knowing it was sanctioned tech from the Spectres, she hadn’t trusted enough of them to have felt safe knowing Vasir could be on the other end of that surveillance. She also wasn’t going to be able to activate anything on her omni-tool without Nika noticing, and altering her own behavior or words accordingly. 

She could just pull the trigger. Prove Nika wrong. She could take a disabling shot, rather than killing her, but Shepard was already under suspicion by the Academy staff. Nika would indubitably take the opportunity to play the victim again and spin the situation to her own benefit. 

She could kill her. It would almost certainly end her own candidacy, maybe get her put in a Council gulag, but the galaxy would be a better place for it. There would be justice.

She _wanted_ to. 

That was exactly why she couldn’t. Not when there were still other options. She was a soldier, not a murderer. She was different from Nika, above her level. She needed that much to be true.

“See?” Nika laughed at her, even doubling over for a second. “You can’t even _do_ it, when you know damn well you should. That’s why you’re so bad at this. Why Ky wrecked your shit. Why you’d make a shitty-ass Spectre. That’s why I’m the _better_ of the two of us.”

“I’m not a cold-blooded killer like you,” Shepard replied through gritted teeth. “An unfeeling psychopath that Cerberus cobbled together in a lab.”

Nika grinned again, this time a little too wide, her eyes a little too intense. “Oh, you dear thing. You think you figured me out, huh? You’re not even _close_. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m a mutant, you know. I just didn’t specify where my special genes came from. Go on, ask me. Aren’t you a _little_ curious?”

“No remotely,” Shepard snapped. “You can give me a confession or you can get the hell out.”

Nika’s eyelashes fluttered and she tilted her head, completely ignoring Shepard’s words. “I got me a proprietary blend, straight out of Mindoir.”

The world froze around Shepard. Her heart was hammering in her ears, but beyond that she couldn’t hear anything. She simultaneously felt as though she was about to puke and about to launch herself at Nika and beat her into the ground with her bare hands. Nika couldn’t know about that; there was no feasible way. But, there _was_ , she realized. A few of them, each possibility worse than the last.

“What did you just say?”

“Well,” Nika shrugged, “ _Half_ of them, roughly. But I think you get the idea.”

“Shut up,” she hissed reflexively.

“Aw, sweetie,” Nika sauntered over and folded her arms over the back of the couch, leaning on them. “You never really wondered why the Batarians went after Mindoir in particular, did you? The Alliance said ‘oh, that’s just slavers for you’ and you were just like, ‘yeah, that sounds legit.’”

“If you think you’re making any kind of sense, you’re wrong,” Shepard snarled, her heart racing now. But she couldn’t stop listening.

“Story time!” Nika perked up brightly. “So after the colony got hit, they didn’t find too many bodies, even if there was more than enough blood to know who couldn’t have survived. Well, _that_ was because some of them corpses were worth serious money. Like, a _bunch_. There was this one in particular. Someone who got exposed to some eezo years and years before when she was knocked up, when we barely knew what biotics were. Back then, the docs said she was just fine, which was weird. Then they found all these cool gene mutations she had. The kind that were super favorable to biotic manifestation. Only maybe a dozen humans have them all, and sometimes they get lucky and pass the whole package on to their kids. Are you getting there yet, or do you need me to keep walking you through it? Spoiler alert: there’s no ‘Happily Ever After.’”

“You’re a damned liar,” Shepard snapped, ignoring the hot sheen of wetness gathering over her eyes. “And I don’t have any idea why you think I’d believe you.”

“Well, _sure_ I am,” Nika beamed and tipped her head the other way. “When there’s a point. But a surprising amount of the time, the truth is _so_ much more fun. When I say I’m the version of what you should have been, Shepard, I really, _really_ mean it. At least _my_ paternal genetics were every bit as awesome as my maternal ones, unlike _you_. Got me a double dose.” She looked down at herself, patting her body a few times and coming back up with a smirk. “There might even be some asari junk all up in here, who knows?”

Shepard’s hands were shaking. They shouldn’t have been shaking, that would suggest Shepard was actually convinced. What Nika was saying was bullshit, nothing more than another ploy to throw Shepard off. That was what she _did_.

“What you’re saying is impossible,” she rebutted. Her pistol’s barrel had been drifting slowly to the ground, just about pointing to the floor now. “The raid on Mindoir happened a little over nine years ago. You’re an adult.”

Nika raised her brows and narrowed her eyes slowly. “Yeah. You’re absolutely right. Biotechnology is _amazing_ , isn’t it?”

Shepard’s mouth moved, but nothing came out of it. Denial could only take a person so far, especially if they were as dedicated to finding the truth as Shepard was. Her eyes were searching Nika’s face for similarities, which she told herself she wasn’t finding. Except for one minor, poignant thing. Nika’s darker complexion and even darker hair aside, she had blue eyes that stood out from the rest of her features. Not unlike Mom’s blue eyes. 

_No_.

“Shepard! I’m here!” 

Garrus rushed up alongside her, panting, and then shoved himself between them, as though to shield her from Nika. He was too late. The damage had been done.

“The _hell_ do you think you’re doing here?” Garrus demanded of Nika.

“Ugh, we were just _talking_ ,” Nika sneered at him, then smiled sweetly at Shepard again. “I mean, come on. I’m alone and unarmed. If Miss Thing here wanted to take me out she totally could. Right, Sheps?”

“Leave,” Shepard rasped in return. “Now. Or I’ll remove you.”

Nika’s insidiously smug smile let her know that she couldn't be happier with herself. She exited then, without a fight, weaving nimbly around Garrus on her way out, neither taking their eyes off the other until she was gone. “Sleep tight, lovebirds,” Shepard could hear her whisper, then giggle.

“Kandros told me what happened,” Garrus said, turning to her and pulling her close. She didn’t fight him, but her mind was too numb to reciprocate. “You should stay in my quarters tonight. Probably safer. You okay?”

Shepard buried her face into his chest without saying anything, and felt his embrace tighten.

  
 _No_.


	35. Chapter 35

Garrus slept horribly that night. Every otherwise innocuous noise was suddenly cause for alarm, a reason to sit up and aim his pistol’s laser sight at the approximate source until there was silence again. He spent roughly half the night with his sidearm in his hand under the pillow, keeping Shepard close with the other. When he finally did manage to sleep, he was plagued with bad dreams he could barely remember once they inevitably woke him. The last one startled him into consciousness in the late morning, when the sun was already on the climb. Something about Shepard not being Shepard, that she’d been replaced with someone else somehow. And then once he was sure he was really awake again, he realized she wasn’t next to him. He flung the blankets off and made his way out to the living room in haste.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, reattaching a few of her mods to her shotgun. He breathed a sigh of relief, then quietly approached her, kneeling near her and telling her he’d be taking a shower. Then they could get a move on wrapping up this investigation. She only nodded, staring down at the completed weapon in an apparent haze.

When he’d finished his morning routine and returned to the living room, the shotgun was stripped to its component parts on the floor. Again. He watched as she picked up a section of housing and carefully cleaned it, and then reattached it to the base frame. He stepped into the kitchenette for a drink and to find something convenient to eat. When he’d finished, he came back to find she had it all together again, only to then initiate the process for a third time in a row. At least that many. He’d been content to let her do what she needed to do, but now it was time to intervene. He stepped closer to her, kneeling by her as she placed the pieces into the same pattern on the carpeting as before.

“Shepard?” he prompted in a near-whisper. She finally looked at him, as though only just then noticing he was even there. He’d never seen her like this. Shaken. Granted, their familiarity with one another only went back less than two months, but this was as far a departure from what he was used to as he could imagine. He didn’t know what Nika had said or done to put her in this state, but going back to his own experience with her mind games, it had to have been bad.

“Hm?” was all she replied.

“Not trying to bother you, but if you’re looking for any kind of sabotage, well, I might have already taken it apart myself last night while you were asleep. It’s clear. I promise.”

She was silent again while she began putting the shotgun back together once more. She skipped on the cleaning and oil this time. One step forward, at least. He had to think of what would snap her out of this. Everything had a solution, usually even people. He just needed to find it.

“We shouldn’t wait anymore,” Garrus said. “It’s time we take this to someone. My vote is Rix. He’s already come to most of our same conclusions, and we have enough proof now that he should be able to do _something_.”

Shepard looked up at him again, this time her eyes actually focusing like she saw him again. A thoughtful expression came to her face, and she collapsed the shotgun into its holstering mode, despite not having her armor on and therefore no place to attach it.

“When you two had your match,” she said in a flat affect, “Did she say anything to you about your dad that she shouldn’t have been able to find out? That she couldn’t have gotten from public sources?”

Garrus frowned, but thought back. “No, I don’t think so. Even if she had, if she really is working with Vasir, then she’d hypothetically have access to all our files.” He paused, making his voice as gentle as he could. “What did she say to you?”

Shepard swallowed and stared into the wall before looking at him. “She knew about Mindoir. But there was more. It just...I want to think it was all a fabrication, but…”

He waited for her to give any clarification, but as she trailed off her eyes started to wander again, unfocusing.

“She’s a pro at that,” he acknowledged, “The one thing she actually has a handle on, mentally. I wouldn’t put much stock into it, whatever it was.”

She cleared her throat, rising out of her cross-legged sitting directly into a standing position. It was a little impressive how smoothly she did it.

“You’re right about going to someone,” she replied, and initiated her omnitool to send him the data packet she and Kandros had compiled. “But I have something else I need to do this morning, so I won’t be able to go with you. It could be the coup-de-grace in this thing. I have to try, at least.”

That was a disappointment. They made a good team, and he had reached a point where his self-confidence was noticeably easier to tap into with her by his side. But he understood. She also probably needed some space to continue sorting out whatever she was dealing with. If she’d wanted to get specific with what it had been that had rattled her so badly, she would have. Pushing her on it wouldn’t help anything.

“Right,” he agreed more on reflex than accord, standing as well. “Want me to walk with you to your quarters to get your gear?”

“I’ll be okay,” she replied, then gave him the smallest hint of what might have been a smile and leaned up against him. “Thanks for everything you do, Garrus. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“Sure you could,” he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing his mouth and nose to the crown of her head, inhaling a hit of her scent for the road. It was gratifying to hear her say just how much she valued him. “Not as stylishly, of course.”

She actually gave a brief burst of laughter and embraced him back, and Garrus considered that a mission complete on his part. 

\-----

Garrus had prudently decided it was high time to be wearing his armor pretty much constantly from here on out. He’d also packed along his rifle, keeping it holstered. That might have been a little overkill, but he’d more than learned his lesson about assuming that things weren’t about to escalate. Turians didn’t tend to believe in overkill, at any rate. When he showed up at Rix’s office, the man had taken notice of Garrus’ preparations and given an approving nod, gesturing to a seat.

It was their first meeting since the afternoon Garrus and Shepard had come disconcertingly close to being ejected from the Academy. Rix barely looked at the information Garrus had laid out before him. Like Garrus had supposed, it seemed the man was already aware of most of it. There were a few crucial bits that he lingered on, and at one point his brows raised significantly, which Garrus felt a little proud of. Finally Rix sank into his seat and tapped his fingers together.

“I was hoping to see something more about Vasir in this,” he stated. Ah. So he hadn’t imagined the intense animosity between the two from the other day.

“Shepard’s working on that now,” Garrus assured him. “The other connections we have here are mostly circumstantial, but it’s overwhelming at this point.”

“A lot of hypotheses,” Rix sighed, drumming his talons back and forth on the desk. “Not that I don’t agree with them, Vakarian. But the standard of evidence with the Council is damned high when it comes to Spectres, ourselves. It’s direct and concrete, or it’s nothing.”

C-Sec hadn’t been all that different, Garrus thought. Or at least his father’s standard hadn’t.

“Understood,” he agreed. “We’ll get it.”

Rix’s dark eyes flicked up at him and narrowed shrewdly, full of consideration. “You know, Vakarian. I actually think you will.”

The older man lifted his hand to his terminal and entered a number. A voice came across- he was placing a call.

“Yes. I need Nika Temura restrained and brought to my office. If she resists, full force is authorized. If Vasir tries to intervene, let her know exactly who gave you the order and tell her to go to hell.”

Garrus’ heart climbed up into his throat. After the weeks of trudging through evidence and stonewall after stonewall, it was beyond shocking to see something move so quickly, and before even Garrus had been absolutely certain they were ready.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, feeling a little giddily numb. Rix arched a brow plate at him.

“You’re not? Your intel just sold me on that call, Vakarian, don’t second-guess yourself now.” 

“To be fair, it wasn’t just _my_ intel…that…”

Rix had stood, and walked to the far wall, specifically a pair of cabinets that were set flush into it. He used his omnitool to unlock it, with what looked to be an inordinately complex code to do so, and reached inside. He came away with something that made Garrus’ heart race, returning to the desk with it.

Rix set the model HMWSR sniper rifle across the desk in front of Garrus, who could scarcely grasp what he was looking at, let alone speculate on why Rix had felt the need to display it to him.

“You ever seen one of these?” his mentor asked. Garrus cleared his throat.

“Once, I think. A long time ago and at a distance. It’s a Spectre-exclusive make, so, pretty rare.”

“That it is. Multi-species engineering to come up with what is the galaxy’s most cutting-edge technology in firepower. They update the design every few years and collect the old ones for recycling, and to keep them out of the hands of those unworthy to wield them. Except I’ve hung onto this one, for the sentimental value. It was my first, when I started out. It may not be from the Master line, but still better than most other mass-produced longrifles you’d find out there. Inspect it.”

Rix lifted it slightly and held it out. Garrus took it gingerly in his hands, turning it over carefully, appreciating the sleek design and stunningly advanced features. It reminded him a bit of Kyeros’ rifle, the same strange aesthetic and multiple unknown mods. But within a few minutes, Garrus was able to parse exactly how they must have worked together and the likely purpose of each. On the bottom of the forestock, painted painstakingly in tiny, intricate Palaveni calligraphy, were several names. There was still room for quite a few more, in that miniscule font.

“My first seventeen collars as a Spectre,” Rix explained unprompted. “My first year. The ones in black I brought in breathing, blue are those I brought in cold.”

The latter were the majority. Garrus sucked in a breath. “It’s definitely impressive.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing how you do with it,” Rix sat against the desk. “You can have it.”

Garrus couldn’t recall having been struck in the head right at that moment, but he instantaneously felt just as dizzy as if he had. “I...Sir, _what_?”

Rix raised his brows slightly, his small smile full of amusement at the reaction. “Oh. Well. I mean, I could give it to Senairis instead, if you’d prefer.”

“I- yes, Sir, you probably should,” Garrus stammered out. “That would be more fitting.”

“That part was a joke, Vakarian. I did, in fact, offer it to her, but she ‘didn’t want my castoffs.’ My guess is she saw it as me trying to buy her forgiveness, which is just, well. Anyway, it’s yours if you want it.”

“Spectre Rix,” Garrus ran his hands over the weapon again. “I’m just...I mean, two days ago we were having a meeting about Shepard and I and whether we could even continue here. Isn't this a _little_ premature?”

“If it did turn out to be,” Rix half-smiled and possibly winked, “I know where to find you. Or if worse came to worse, all I’d have to do is inform the Council who had it last, and someone would be by to collect it, one way or another. But Garrus, between us, that whole meeting was a farce of Nihlus’ own making. Vasir can take a walk out an airlock for all I care, Bau didn’t come down on either side of the whole thing, and Maerun is a slippery bastard that no one has ever had much luck pinning down. Arterius still hasn’t shown up at the Citadel by all accounts to do what he said he was going to. I’m going to tentatively say you’re both safe for the time being, as is the Academy once this is all sorted.”

Garrus looked back down at the rifle again, running a hand over it. It was scratched and worn from use, as one would have to have expected, but otherwise in excellent working condition. It had obviously been very well cared for.

“That, and Sen told me all about your little dust-up yesterday,” Rix added with a twitch of a smirk. “Sounded to me like you could use the backup.”

Garrus cleared his throat in mild humiliation. “I, ah. Yeah. Well. It’s good to hear the two of you are talking.”

“Hm,” Rix mused. “On the same token, it’s good to hear the two of you didn’t get off the ground in the end. It’s one thing to be planning on mentoring you; for you to also be seeing my sister, that would have put us in a fairly awkward position.”

Garrus reflected a moment on the day in the hospital Rix had poured his soul out to him, and started to wonder if the man had been referring to Garrus’ hypothetical relationship with Sen, rather than Shepard, after all. He was interrupted by Rix getting a return call, continuing to gaze over the rifle resting on his knees in awe. He heard electronically processed words he couldn’t quite decipher, then Rix’s face twisted into chagrin.

“She’s _what_?”

\-----

Rix didn’t object when Garrus tagged along to the scene upon hearing the news that Nika Temaru had vanished completely. Within twenty minutes they were standing just outside her quarters, or what had once been those quarters. Now they were a blown-out mess; Garrus couldn’t immediately tell if it had been biotics or an ordinance that had caused the damage. Whomever had come to collect her hadn’t fared well in the endeavor, either way, reports indicating they’d been transferred to the hospital. No news had come back yet on whether said individual was yet among the living. The door was fully _gone_ , the entirety of the interior walls covered in pockmark-like holes, ostensibly from shrapnel. The windows were completely blasted out, impressive being that they’d been kinetically reinforced glass. Beyond that, there were no personal belongings, no sign anyone had been staying there at all.

“Well,” Rix sighed. “At least she decided to make the question of her liability much easier to answer. I think it’s high time Vasir and I had a little chat.”

“Sir,” Garrus interjected. “You’re still not at one hundred percent, and I doubt Vasir would intend to go any more quietly than Nika did, if you cornered her.”

Rix peered at him, disgruntled. “I might know a little more about the situation with her than you, Vakarian, much as I appreciate your concern.”

“I’m just saying- why not give it just a little longer, a few more hours even, until we have full confirmation? Then you can send it on to the Council and they can decide from there what to do with her. Being stripped of her Spectre status would be a far more fitting consequence, and less risky for everyone involved.”

“That happens, and one of us has to go take her down anyway. She’s not one who’ll just turn in her gun and her badge like a good little turncoat. Especially if it looks as bad for her as I suspect it will.”

“I understand that. Please, give me the chance to do this, if nothing else. I know you already plan on putting my name forward; let me earn it, one more time.”

Rix snorted in wry amusement, and then slowly nodded in resignation. It wasn’t a small thing; Garrus could empathize terribly well with the sentiment of wanting to go after a perp himself but being stymied in his ability to do so. 

“All right then, Vakarian. Earn it. Go find me our runner. I’ll get Sen on it, you two call in whomever you think is fit to help cover the grounds. I’ll be getting the compound put on lockdown for the next few hours.”

Rix reached out, taking his old rifle off Garrus’ holster momentarily and holding it in front of him, demonstrating something. With a quick tap to an unassuming side panel, the gun made a soft clicking and charging noise.

“Lethal force authorized, Vakarian,” Rix stated with full gravity. “For the next few hours, your arm is mine. Use it wisely.”

\-----

“Shepard?” Garrus said into the comm, not the first time. His only reply was a bit of crackling static. They hadn’t been in communication since that morning, and now that he’d been trying to call her up, he wasn’t getting a response. He also didn’t know where she had even gone; he sincerely regretted not asking about that. His flesh was prickling anxiously as he opened the channel once again. Sen cast him a sidelong look as she slunk through the halls of the main building, parallel to him, clearing room after room with their scans.

“She’s probably somewhere she’s not getting good reception,” Sen suggested in a vague attempt at reassurance. It didn’t do much for him.

“Where could that even be?” he asked, partly to Sen, but mostly to no one. The whole compound was running on a local signal emitter, it was hard to find a place one couldn’t get a call. Off to his left, Sen checked her omnitool as a message popped up.

“Avitus says they’ve got the perimeter secured,” she informed him. “But apparently the Spectres have all agreed to step back and stay out of this until we get it taken care of. How nice of them.”

Teg and Dax were elsewhere doing a similar sweep, and he’d even managed to rope Alenko into going along with Welod to clear yet another region of the compound. The rest of the populace of the Academy had been ordered to their quarters and to stay on alert, so that Garrus’ people could be sure that any life signs their scans picked up weren’t other wandering candidates.

“Well, we _are_ here to prove our merits,” Garrus replied as they finally ended up back in the main hall. He sighed in exasperation and tried Shepard again, to a longer burst of static and what almost sounded like her saying his name in return. He was officially worried now.

“Yeah, but this is a load of-” Sen’s head whipped up, and her arm lashed out at him. Her hand hooked his cowl and threw him back behind the corner of the corridor they’d been emerging from as she yelled, “ _Shit_!”

As though on cue, the hail and thunder of gunfire echoed down upon them from the direction of the main entrance. Garrus’ shields shimmered, having soaked a couple of rounds that had hit his greaves, as Sen stuck her rifle back out and started giving their attackers several rounds of loud, heavy return fire. Garrus had his new rifle in his hands shortly, falling into a kneeling position next to her and taking up firing just as Sen folded back behind the corner to change out her heat sink.

The Spectre-class rifle made a noise that was like nearby thunder but choked, much quieter than he expected. And then the oncoming enemy’s shields shattered in a single burst, the soldier’s chest bursting to red life as the single round punched through every last line of defense he’d had in a single go. Garrus stared down in wide-eyed wonderment at the firearm for a second, and even the other troops stopped, appearing to reconsider their advance. Then Sen yelled at him to keep shooting, and the advancing soldiers pressed on with their line of fire.

Garrus didn’t recognize the particular style and coloring of the suits of those bearing down on them, but it was all of the same style. Black and grey armor, plain and unrefined, with a red symbol on the left breast he didn’t recognize. A unified, professional attack. That partially answered the question of who would be stupid enough to launch a full-on assault on a base with nearly three dozen Spectres and over a hundred of their prospective apprentices.

“Who the hell are they?” he demanded over the cacophony. Then the ground beneath them shook and the air rumbled with the sound of a not so far away explosion, shattering out the windows and sending sheets of shards down to the ground.

“An army,” Sen yelled back, not breaking their firing pattern. An army indeed, and here they were, just the two of them to repel this front of the attack. As the advancing regiment started to realize better tactics may be called for, Garrus went to pop his heat sink, and jumped as his omnitool lit up. His jittery fingers hit the answer button, his eyes only seeing it was indeed Shepard the same moment he was saying her name.

“Garrus,” she replied. “We’re in th-” more static erased bits of what she was trying to relay.

“-have a situation down here-”

“No kidding,” he snarked in relief at hearing her. “What a coincidence, we just found ourselves one of our own up here.”

“-me now?” she said again, sounding clearer.

“Yeah, one sec,” he replied, unloading every round his heat sink would allow. Each round hit an attacker, most shots hitting the exact anatomical spots he’d been aiming for. The morale finally broke in their enemies about the point that they’d lost half their men, while not so much as taking down either turian’s shields.

“Followed- to the- _get down_!” Shepard shouted, then Garrus could only hear gunfire for several seconds. 

“Just tell me where to go!” Garrus called out in desperation.

A radar ping lit up on his display, and a locator with the distance and general heading popped up in his display.

“Go,” Sen said as the room emptied of retreating combatants. The sounds of battle were escalating outside, beyond the high walls. The Academy was fighting back. “We’ve got this.”

With a nod, Garrus turned and raced down towards the back of the main hall.


	36. Chapter 36

It took Shepard a while to find the place where Janen had asked her to meet. Apparently, while the quarian could theoretically hack the database from anywhere on the compound, the closer they were to the actual physical servers, the more reliable the connection. She found herself in a winding maintenance hall toward the back of the main building. The entrance had been set back behind a partial wall that had made it difficult to spot. At the end of the hall, an alcove with only a couple of potted plants had disguised the area as nothing more than a decorative feature, a completely uninteresting area that easily deflected attention. Janen was there, having found and was accessing the service terminal that folded out from the wall, while a few of the others from their motley group were standing guard. She hadn’t expected Kandros, Barati, and Leyene to also be there, each one of them as decked out and ready for action as Shepard was. But she was glad for it.

“Nika’s in the reeds,” Barati informed her as she arrived. “Big explosion up in her quarters just a few minutes ago and no one can find her. Word is they were trying to arrest her.”

Shepard nodded. “Garrus was going to Rix with all of our findings. Sounds like that went well.”

“ _Ish_ ,” Barati shrugged. “But now we all need to be worried about where she’s going to turn up.”

“That can wait. Janen, what do we got?”

“Still getting in,” Janen explained. “It takes a min- ah. There. All right, Spectre communications…looks like most of them have been deleted as a standard procedure, but we should have whatever’s taken place in the last day or so. Give me just a minute.”

“I couldn’t find Ryssa, either,” Kandros said, her voice swelling with worry. “What if she-”

“We’ll find her,” Shepard insisted. “Just as soon as we’re done here, that will be our next priority. All right?”

Kandros barely nodded, agitation rampant in her expression.

“Shepard!” Janen interrupted. “There’s a power surge starting! She must be in there, right now. We could catch her in the act!”

Shepard’s pupils shrank, and everyone focused on Janen a moment before glancing between one another and forging a silent agreement. Without any need for words, they charged their firearms and activated their kinetic shield batteries, as well as prepping their preferred abilities for an opening salvo. Five against one. Better odds than Shepard could have hoped for.

“Open the door,” Shepard ordered. 

Beyond it, there was a steep, downward staircase that shrank away into a dimly lit area below. Shepard took point, inching forward slowly and keeping her muzzle up. The stairway led down into a narrow corridor, and Shepard raised a fist to signal her group to halt. As she peered around the corner, there was a figure standing just outside another door, standing directly in front of the access panel and fidgeting. The figure was just the right dimensions to be Nika, though with her helmet on, Shepard couldn’t be completely sure. 

Shepard readied a charge; she was going to have precisely one chance. She aimed the end of her charge to just short of the figure; enough to give her a ‘love-tap’ into the door, rather than splatter her into it. Tempting though that was.

As Shepard collided into the target, the startled shriek that she emitted sounded nothing at all like Nika. Shepard twisted the woman’s arms behind her back and hooked her fingers under the helmet’s attachment, jerking it off her head without much regard for the wearer’s comfort in doing so. She was less surprised than her companions sounded to be to see Ryssa’s lavender features beneath. It made sense now- Ryssa and Nika were of a remarkably similar size, and therefore looked basically identical in the same style of armor. Being caught on camera wouldn’t have meant a thing; they could have pointed the finger at one another and guilt would have been ridiculously hard to establish.

“Please,” Ryssa begged. Shepard rapidly spun the asari around and pressed her solidly against the door. She lowered her weapon, though only mostly.

“She’s in there right now. Isn’t she?” Shepard demanded. “What is she doing?”

“Shepard,” Kandros came up next to her. “Ease up, okay?”

Shepard carefully pressed Kandros back with an arm, staying focused on the asari.

“I don’t know,” Ryssa squeaked. “I promise, I don’t know. I was just supposed to watch the door.”

Shepard’s brows knitted as she thought. “Because Vasir’s the one who told you to. She’s the one making you help Nika. Whether you wanted to or not.”

Tears began streaming in a downpour over Ryssa’s face as her features crumpled up in aching regret. Her shoulders and then her whole upper body began to shake with sobs. She tried to cover up her face with her hands, but Shepard gently pushed them back down.

“If we’re going by the length of the other surges, we only have around nine or ten minutes left,” Janen alerted them.

“Tell me what Vasir’s doing. What Nika’s helping her do.” Her voice came out sharper, angrier than she’d meant it. But she needed this information, and she needed it _now_. They were soon going to be officially out of time.

“I can’t,” Ryssa choked, shaking her head. “I _can’t_. Goddess. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. People weren’t supposed to get _hurt_.”

“You heard her,” Kandros urged her, grabbing her pauldron. “Let’s just go get this bitch for once and for all.”

Shepard inhaled deeply, forcing calm into herself. “Ryssa. You need to help me stop her from hurting anyone else. _Please_. You know something. You’re not supposed to tell anyone, but you _have_ to. Right now.”

“It’s…” Ryssa wiped at her tears, mustering up what courage she could. “It’s for Thessia, for all asari. And the whole galaxy, by extension. That’s what Spectre Vasir said. It’s what she said when I told her I wanted to be done.”

Shepard frowned deeply. “ _What_ is for Thessia?”

“I don’t _know_. I swear to you. All she said was that it was the most important thing in the galaxy. It’s something no one can ever know about. It would end galactic civilization as we know it.”

Shepard’s throat thickened, making swallowing difficult. So someone _was_ blackmailing Vasir, or maybe the entire asari government, by threatening to release damning information that could do to the asari what was being done to the Hierarchy. What was happening with the turians right now may well have even been a warning, a demonstration of that power. She breathed heavily a few times, dropping her voice low.

“Okay. Thank you, Ryssa, that’s exactly what I needed to hear. You did the right thing. Now, there’s one other thing. This is important. Has Nika ever said anything about me that stood out to you? Or about herself?”

“I mean, no?” Ryssa’s face twisted up with confusion. “Nothing that could possibly matter.”

“What is the point of this?” Kandros demanded. Shepard had all but forgotten the woman was hanging intently over her shoulder, closely monitoring how Shepard was handling Ryssa’s interrogation. “We only have a few more minutes. Let’s _go_.”

“Just _think_ ,” Shepard said, ignoring Kandros.

“She...she’s really lonely, I guess?” Ryssa replied. “She’s said there’s no one who could possibly understand her. And, well, she _really_ hates you. I never figured out why; I always thought you were decent. But she never said. She’s never talked about herself much at all.”

“ _Shepard_ ,” Kandros’s voice was hardening with anger now. Shepard released Ryssa and stepped back.

“We’re going in there now,” she told the distraught asari. “And we’re going to end this. Kandros-”

“I’m staying with her,” the turian woman finished, not needing to be told. “I’ll take her back up top, get her somewhere safe.”

“Try to find Nihlus, he’s going to want to hear what she has to say,” Shepard said, before gesturing to the rest of the group. “Everyone else- we’re going in.”

Shepard took point again, this time directing her companions to various strategic positions along the way, not intending to make Nika’s inevitable escape attempt easy on her. The woman was nothing if not predictable in her willingness to flee when things looked even vaguely like they may not go her way. Shepard, on the other hand, was staring down a potentially deadly confrontation of her own free will and choice.

_Better than me, my ass_ , she thought. 

The drive to face this particular encounter had been building subliminal pressure in the back of her mind since yesterday, pushing her inexorably towards an end. Whether what Nika had claimed about them sharing genes was the truth or not was completely irrelevant in this moment. There was no longer even the illusion of a question of Nika’s guilt. It was time. Shepard was done holding back.

Her scans finally told her exactly where her quarry was, between two adjacent servers, standing in an alcove terminal while her transmission completed. The moment she came around the corner and Nika was in her sights, Shepard took quick aim at her center mass, and fired. No second guesses, no hesitation, just unloading an entire clip until her heat sink exploded out the back of her weapon with a whining hiss.

Each round crashed into Nika’s kinetic shields, rapidly wearing them down. The younger woman’s hand came up to her side, and the blue shimmer over her barrier took over, soaking the rest of the damage. She finished tapping out a few things on the terminal before turning her head in Shepard’s direction, her posture still relaxed and nonchalant.

“Oh,” Nika said over her external com. “Looks like Ryssie’s been a _bad_ girl.” Then she lifted her wrist, speaking into her omnitool. “Hey. It’s a little bright in here, can we do something about that?”

Shepard had just loaded in her new heat sink when the lights vanished, plunging them into total blackness. And then the shooting _really_ got started, this time coming in hot in Shepard’s direction. Someone had outfitted Nika with a hell of a new assault rifle.

Shepard dodged behind the server to her left, a handful rounds hammering into her kinetic shields up until she was fully in cover. It took her a flailing few seconds to get her night vision switched on, and to her utter lack of surprise, Nika was gone when she turned back out of cover.

“She’s coming!” she called over the comm to her crew, and charged out in the direction she assumed Nika to have gone in. She was wrong.

Shepard was only several strides in, when a blinding light in the shape of a psycho biotic beast lit up her night vision to total white-out. Nika’s biotic attack crashed into her, slamming her back into the server behind her. She got her barrier up on reflex in just enough time to save herself from being completely demolished, the whole heavy tower crashing down beneath her.

“You should have died on Mindoir. Or been some batarian’s little human _toy_ ,” Nika called out, the fading, echoing effect telling Shepard she was running again. She crawled her way to her feet, catching the breath that had been punched right out of her lungs. There was a strange, thunderous rumble from above and the faintest vibration through the walls and floor. Too far away to have been another of Nika’s biotic attacks; something big and explodey upstairs. The hell was going on up there?

Shepard staggered forward, listening to gunfire going off in the distance. Shotgun against assault rifle. Probably Janen; Leyene’s shotgun wasn’t as loud. She brought up her omnitool; if, and probably when Nika made it past them, they were going to need an assist. She hoped she was close enough to the door for the call to go through as she fumbled her way through a maze that looked completely different in white-green than it had in full spectrum light.

“Garrus,” she called as a staticky voice answered. “We’re in the server room, and we have a situation down here. You copy?”

“-Ding. What a-” his voice cut in and out, but it was better than the nothing she’d been getting before. “-found ourselves- up here.”

She trotted her way steadily in the direction she thought she could remember the stairwell being, swinging her barrel out ahead of her, ready to take a shot. Then almost tripped over something- no, it moved. Someone. She looked down quickly and held back, seeing it wasn’t her nemesis at all, but a quarian’s familiar face mask.

“My suit!” Janen whisper-shrieked “She breached my suit!”

Shepard knelt, using her omnitool to try and create a makeshift seal over the rupture while pressing Janen’s hands back gradually off the wound in her abdomen as she did. She tried Garrus again.

“Can you hear me now?”

“- one sec,” came his reply, followed by an alarming amount of shooting. Had Nika already made it up there? She made certain Janen was stable before moving forward, rapid, careful steps in a maintained crouch. Someone spun on her and she just about fired again, but it was Leyene, and they both recoiled from their near-firefight in sync.

“Where- you?” Garrus's voice demanded.

“We followed Nika down to the server- _get down_!” she shouted at Leyene, yanking her behind what proved to be a desk and then blindly unloading another heat sink at Nika right through her own barrage from her assault rifle.

“-where to go!” Garrus’ voice crackled through the comm again. She wasn’t going to be able to communicate her location to him in time. Unless…

“Keep an eye out,” she directed Leyene, pulling up her omnitool. It would take too long to type out a full back-and-forth conversation of asking where he was and then giving him comprehensive directions, to say nothing of waiting the elongated time lapse in between each message. But she had another idea. She found Garrus’ listing in her contacts, and pulled up her device locator program. It only needed a very basic signal, and pinged every second and a half or so. That would get him down here, even if she couldn’t directly warn him about Nika. He likely already suspected that much was going on. She messaged him the locator and hoped for the best.

“Janen is back there, she needs assistance,” Shepard directed Leyene. “I’m going after Nika.”

“Got it,” Leyene nodded, and the two raced off in different directions. Shepard finally had the door in her sights, when Barati stepped out from behind a server and launched a tech incinerate attack. Shepard flinched off to one side, only for the blaze to hit somewhere just over her left shoulder. She spun to see that Nika had been coming up right behind her, and instead had had to throw up a barrier to prevent herself erupting into flames.

Shepard almost had a biotic attack charged up, but Nika had hers ready to go. Biotics tended to have a ‘tell’ that was familiar to most other biotics; some permutation of a mnemonic motion that triggered each particular technique. They weren’t absolutely necessary, but it was a whole lot harder to pull anything off without them. For example, Shepard recognized in an instant that Nika was gearing up a shockwave, having it ready again just as soon as she dropped her barrier. Shepard herself wouldn’t have been able to pull that off so quickly after having to switch gears out of defensive biotics. Shepard leapt to one side, clearing herself from the line of the blast. Barati, not so familiar with these ‘tells,’ didn’t quite make it. She was thrown hard into a wall behind her and to the left, falling with a pained cry into a crumpled ball. Shepard ran up to her, pulling her up into a sitting position.

“Status?” she demanded.

“Ribs,” Baratis gasped. “Got medigel. Stop her!”

Nika was running again. Shepard dropped to a knee and followed her with her muzzle, firing a rhythmic series of shots, none of which were a direct enough hit to take out her shields as Nika slipped out of range. Shepard reloaded a heat sink, jumped up again, and readied a biotic charge just as the door to the stairway opened. The world bowed around her, stretched out before and behind her, and then she was rocketing forward at near relativistic speed. She’d been targeting Nika, hoping to hit her dead-on. Instead, she found herself colliding hard with the closing door, cratering it in with a Shepard-sized dent. 

The good news was, the door stopped closing. The bad news was, as Shepard forcibly attempted to squeeze her way through the opening, Nika was giving her a crude gesture as she flared up into a biotic charge of her own, flying up the stairs. Shepard bloomed with dark energy and pushed against the door hard, wedging herself through the gap. She dropped the amplification, counted to one-thousand-two for her cooldown, and followed Nika up the stairs in a charge.

Shepard reached the top just in time to see Nika ducking behind a pillar to avoid Garrus’ sniping, flinging a biotic attack at him in response. It hit him in the side, and he turned the momentum into a roll, popping back up with a flourish. He fired another shot after her, pinning her behind the column, looking back at Shepard.

“So the Academy’s under attack,” he informed her, tone sardonically casual outside of his voice being raised, and fired again as Nika considered her options. “Taking a guess that has something to do with _her_.”

“Has to be,” Shepard nodded as she started to circle her way around until Nika was in view. She moved just in time to see the charge being powered up, and was able to roll away from the position she’d been in. Then, Nika charged again, angling impossibly quickly towards Garrus. She slammed into him, sending him tumbling backward a few meters. He was back on his feet just as Nika was making a run for it out the West entrance. Not the direction of the shuttle bay area. What could possibly be waiting for her in that direction, besides her pre-planned escape?

“Go after her!” Shepard barked. “I have an idea!”

He clipped a nod and gave chase. In a foot race, humans didn’t have much on turians, and even being able to intermittently use a biotic charge to improve her chances, Shepard would still bet on Garrus if it was only a matter of simply running her down. But one thing she _wasn’t_ about to bet on was Nika leaving her chances to being able to outrun someone. There was always another angle, an ace up her sleeve.

Shepard emerged from the front of the main building, to chaos.

The Academy was at war. Spectres darted from cover to cover, hurling explosives into enemy platoons and sniping from the taller buildings. A turian candidate was leading a sizable group of other, mostly turian candidates, charging them into the fray. Asari were providing cover in the form of shield domes and firing off biotic artillery. Shepard was sure she caught a glimpse of Nihlus dual-wielding a set of pistols, taking down target after target with each expertly-placed shot, deadly in his perfect calm.

The other thing that caught Shepard’s attention was the fact that there wasn’t simply one invading army; there were _two_. Besides those in black and grey, mostly humans, batarians and asari, there was another, smaller presence in the form of white and gold armored soldiers whose insignia was a golden ‘C’, pointed downward. All human, as far as she could tell. Cerberus; it had to be. And though most of the interlopers were locked in battle with the Academy contingent, there were small pockets of the two outside forces engaging one another. Specifically, in one particular area to the West, in the general direction where Nika had fled. Whatever the mystery army was doing, Cerberus were covering her escape. All of this, just for one crappy biotic ‘super-soldier’.

Shepard ran for the side of the shuttle bay where she’d been storing her rented aircar, skirting between positions of cover. There was little need; most of the conflict was happening the other way, and no one seemed to be in any hurry to flee from the fight. She slipped in undetected and was off the compound before anyone seemed to notice. She took the long curving road around to the side of the Academy that was not presently a battleground, not in a hurry to be shot at when in a vehicle without armor and no way to fire back.

She came up around to the west side of the compound just in time to see Nika zipping off on a hoverbike, Garrus in hot pursuit on foot. She was coming up behind him just as he was slowing down, finally accepting that there was no way he was catching up and starting to look around for another solution. He jumped back as she pulled up alongside him, activating the door.

“Get in,” she said. He blinked at her for only half a second before eagerly complying.

  
“Oh, _hell_ yes.”


	37. Chapter 37

It wasn’t something he’d been keen on thinking too hard about before, but right at that moment, Garrus considered he might be in love with Shepard. Justifiably infatuated, at the very least. Where else was he going to find a woman whose off-the-cuff plans started with being his driver in a run-and-gun vehicle chase with him? 

There was one small caveat. Shepard’s driving at normal speeds in normal conditions was...fine. If she missed a sign or became unreasonably aggravated with another driver, it tended to be only an occasional thing and Garrus generally didn’t see it as a big enough issue to say anything to her about it. Maybe it was the intensity of the situation or just how dedicated Shepard was to ensuring Nika didn’t get away, and those things he couldn’t argue about. But still Garrus felt compelled to say something.

“I really don’t think we should be on the sidewalk for this,” he called to her over the engine roar, honking horns and shouts of pedestrians. He’d also wedged himself securely against the sides of the confined space of the passenger seat, not altogether trusting the vehicle’s restraints against Shepard’s single-minded method of pursuit. “Mowing down civilians wouldn’t be a great look, in retrospect.”

“They’re getting out of the way,” Shepard snarked back, blasting the horn again. “And we’re not going to catch her if I have to wait at lights while she weaves through traffic.”

“Fair point, but- _pole_!” he grunted as she clipped a streetlight, sending sparks and metal flying. He turned his head to look back at where it fell, slamming down on the front end of a vehicle, crushing in the hood. “I’m just suggesting, let’s maybe not sink to her level by showing a callous disregard for bystanders.”

“Oh, we have a _long_ way to go to get to her level,” Shepard retorted through her teeth, finally swerving back onto a less busy stretch of road as they turned out towards a highway exit. Garrus let out his held breath. “To do that I’d have to be assigning point values to people and then trying for a high score.”

She said this just as she forced her way between one other aircar that had been passing another, sideswiping both of them at once and then racing on forward, leaving the developing crash scene behind.

“True enough,” Garrus sighed, taking a long look through his visor as he tracked Nika’s trajectory. The bike wasn’t much faster than the car, but leagues more agile. “I think she’s headed out towards somewhere rural. Probably heading for a shuttle extraction rendez-vous; the Academy situation was too hot for that.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Shepard agreed, pulling up a map of the local area on the dashboard. Small radar-like dots indicated nearby vehicles, the one moving directly away from them the fastest being Nika on her bike. She was almost to the edge of what the car’s sensors could pick up. “See if you can find where she’s likely to be going. Let’s see if we can head this bitch off.”

Garrus got to work, analyzing the map as quickly as he could while Shepard continued accelerating the farther out from the city they got. The spaces between vehicles were stretching out longer as they drove, and though Shepard’s jerky handling left something to be desired, he was breathing a bit more easily and could focus on his task. The road curved off and away towards a long sort of plateau that was bordered on one side by a large lake. They were on the other side of the lake, Garrus realized, from where they’d spent their first real evening together. He didn’t know who in their right mind had decided to construct a roadway that close to a drop-off into a body of water, but maybe that was why he wasn’t cut out to be a civil engineer.

“Up here,” he indicated. “This open, isolated spot. Further past that is all forest, not ideal for a landing. That’s where I’d be calling in an extraction, anyway.”

“Good eye,” Shepard replied. “And then she’ll either have to suck it up and deal with us head-on, or waste time finding another LZ.”

“Should we call this in?” Garrus asked, prepping his rifle. “At least to let them know where we’re going.”

“The Spectres are a little busy right now,” Shepard reminded him. “No reason to lead them on a wild goose chase until we have her in hand.”

They were coming up on a straight-away and the presence of other vehicles had dwindled to almost nothing. Either this was an unpopular travel route, or news of the attack had gotten out and the local government was finally doing something to react to it. They were also within only a couple of kilometers of Nika’s probable evacuation. He wasn’t going to have a better opportunity.

“Let’s do this,” he muttered to himself, opening the side window and clinging his body up against the side of the car. The wind was whipping against his face violently, blowing a steady stream of air up his nostrils and into his eyes. He could really have used his helmet right about now. No time to worry about that. He propped the HMWSR up on the roof of the car, aiming out ahead of them at the hoverbike, taking a brief moment to deliberate whether to aim for her bike, or just save everyone the frustration and go for a headshot.

Then, she turned, unleashing a hail of assault rifle ammo in their direction. Shepard swerved hard to one side to avoid the attack, forcing Garrus to redirect his top priority from _shoot this maniac_ to _hold the hell on_. He was also cognizant of the weight of Shepard’s gauntleted hand grabbing and hanging onto his armor’s knee joint for the extra support.

Well. Nika definitely knew they were coming after her. He needed to do this fast.

Garrus inhaled and took aim. For as excited as he’d been at the prospect, he’d never actually chanced to have had to shoot at a fleeing perp from a moving vehicle. He peered through his visor, using the numbers and his own calculus to estimate just how far out ahead of her he needed to lead his shot. He didn’t _have_ to get it right on the first go, not for any reason other than his own ego, at any rate. But she didn’t know what was coming as of yet. This was going to be his only ambush shot, his best chance at taking her down. The difficulty was only going to scale up from here when she actually started taking evasive action.

Garrus’s lungs were starting to burn when he finally let go of the breath through his nose, pulling the trigger in sync. It was serene, meditative in a way. The rest of the world had fallen away; there was only him, the rifle, and the target. And one brief nostalgic memory of the day he’d sent Nika spiralling through the air like a loose clawball. He could do this; he knew it because he’d already done something at least this difficult. And back then it had just been a matter of winning a training exercise; this time, he was savoring the chance to take her out.

The explosive crack of the rifle’s report broke through his zen contemplation, and his vision narrowed intently on the hoverbike ahead. A hole exploded into the road just ahead of Nika, sending a cloud of rocks and dust flying and forcing her to swerve around it in a hurry, nearly putting her knee on the ground as she did. Some road worker out there was going to be pretty upset with him, later down the line. He smiled a little at himself.

Then Garrus did what he’d been readily prepared to do in the event he missed; he reloaded the diffusion socket with one of the half-dozen heat sinks he’d been holding in reserve in his hand, and pulled the trigger again. And again. Letting heat sinks fly and slipping in new ones with smooth, machine-like motion. He had another six in a compartment at his waist. Each of the successive shots crept up closer behind her, like each round was an extension of him, steadily acquiring his prey.

_This is exactly when you try harder. This is when you pull yourself together and you do it._

Nika’s arm shimmered with that signature blue energy as she turned again to unleash a return attack. But she was too damn late. In fact, she’d made a fatal mistake; she should have been using her abilities to shore up her own defenses in the imminent event that one of his shots found its target. His fifth consecutive round bit into the mass of the hoverbike just before she could release her attack, right in the power core casing, blowing the machine right out from under her. The bike underwent a rapid chain reaction that quickly turned into a fiery explosion, and Nika kept flying forward on a collision course with the road.

It was _glorious_.

“That one hit!” Garrus cried exuberantly, slipping back down into the vehicle around the same time Shepard was pulling into a rapid, drifting deceleration next to where Nika had come to an eventual stop in the grass, just a few meters from the curve in the road. Garrus was leaping out of the vehicle before it had even fully stopped, keeping his rifle trained on the only barely moving form of the fallen enemy, ready to put her down the moment he saw even a flicker of blue. But as he approached, he began to grow less concerned that was going to happen.

The visor of her helmet was spiderwebbed, the protective outer panelling broken away enough that he could see a patch of the wires and circuits underneath. Her armor was scraped and shredded, a few pieces having detached completely, leaving bare patches of badly scraped flesh open to the air. Her left arm didn’t look set quite right at her shoulder, dislocated, probably. He hoped it hurt like hell. 

“Stay down,” Garrus warned in a growl as Shepard finally approached from behind, her shotgun at the ready.

“Call them,” Shepard said to Garrus, then glared down at Nika through her own helmet. “How about you and I have a little talk.”

Garrus did so. He didn’t get a direct connection, meaning the battle was probably still raging back at the Academy. But he was able to leave a message, and mark it as urgent. It had taken them around twenty minutes to get all the way out here, and that was in an ground-level aircar. A shuttle would be faster. Nika groaned, stirring slowly. Shepard’s muzzle followed her with every minor shift.

“How about,” Nika finally croaked out. “You both go and fuck right off.”

“I recommend co-operating,” Garrus retorted. “You haven’t exactly given anyone much incentive to keep you alive. Or make your death quick.”

“Pffft,” Nika scoffed as she stiffly worked at getting her helmet off. “ _Right_. You don’t have the...gonads, or whatever it is you have. And Shepard wouldn’t let you, anyway. Would you, Sheps?”

Shepard’s breathing was deep and steady. “I wouldn’t be making assumptions right now, if I were you.”

“If you were going to kill me, I’d be dead,” Nika smirked up at them, tossing her helmet to the side. She started to speak again, but instead coughed heavily into her hand, pulling away a palm covered in flecks of red. “...aw, shit. Yep. That’s blood.”

“Well that’s not a good sign, is it?” Garrus snorted. “But whether you talk right now isn’t going to matter whatsoever once the Spectres get here.”

“The Spectres,” Nika started to giggle hoarsely. “Oh that’s goddamn rich. They can’t do shit to me, and they know it.”

“Vasir’s going down too,” Shepard replied. “She won’t be able to help you anymore.”

This set off another spat of giggling from Nika, which culminated in another coughing fit. She spat out a sickly glob of a blood clot. “Oh my _god_ you’re so behind. _Help_ me? That bitch is _terrified_ of me. Of what I can do. What I know. She hasn’t been _helping_ me, she just knows to stay the hell out of my way.”

“Yeah, you sure are frightening,” Garrus muttered sarcastically, then glanced up to Shepard. “We don’t even have to do anything here, really. Looks like natural consequences are going to take care of this one.”

Shepard was staring down at Nika, appearing to be deep in thought When she eventually spoke, her voice was low, commanding. There was some almost supernatural effect to it when she spoke like that, Garrus thought. 

“No one’s afraid of you, Nika,” she said. “That’s just the excuse you give yourself as to why you can barely function in life. But no. You’re just a sad, lonely little child with delusions of grandeur to cover up your flagrant, utter incompetence.”

Nika’s expression started to fluctuate, first into a raging snarl, then slipping seamlessly into a visage so blank and empty that Garrus found it almost unnerving.

“Hannah,” Nika coughed up pathetically at Shepard. “Her name was Hannah, right?”

Garrus didn’t have any idea what she was talking about, but when he turned to look at his companion it became entirely clear that Shepard did. She had stopped moving altogether, frozen in place. She stared down an uncomfortably long moment before finally replying, her voice a raspy snarl of teeth and blood hunger. “ _You don’t get to say her name.”_

“I never even got to meet her. Could you tell me about her?” Her voice had gone high and innocent, like a child asking for one more bedtime story. “Was she nice? Or would she have hated me, too?”

Shepard started to say something, gripping her shotgun tightly in both hands, the muzzle slowly rising. Then she abruptly about-faced, turning away and stalking a few meters in an attempt to cool herself down. Garrus’ eyes followed her, but without taking his rifle’s sights off Nika. That was it. Whatever that was, _that_ was what had set Shepard off, what had snapped something in her, even momentarily. And Nika was doing what Nika did, rubbing salt right into the wound, trying to provoke her. Well, he supposed, why not give the little beast what she was asking for? She didn’t deserve Shepard’s mercy. He already knew how mollifying it would have felt to have been able to deal with her exactly how he’d wanted to after she’d taunted him about his own father’s death.

“Shepard,” Garrus said as his partner wandered closer to him again. “You know. We could just...deal with this. End it. Right now. No one would question it if we did. It’s not like the Spectres don’t handle things that way most of the time, anyway.”

Shepard’s breaths were heaving hard, her gauntlets clenched into tight fists. He knew the feeling well, felt that the two of them couldn’t have been more like kindred spirits than they were right now. Or better a team. What better way to culminate the thrill of the chase than with the satisfying finality of dispensing some justice, themselves?

“...No. No, she’s too valuable as a prisoner. Nihlus is going to want her alive.”

Garrus almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was the right time. No one to tell them whether or not they had any right, no one to stop them from taking matters into their own hands. It was a manifestation of every wish fulfillment fantasy he’d ever had back in C-Sec, staring them right in the face.

“She’ll never tell them a damned thing,” Garrus argued, hoping to make her see reason. He couldn’t fathom why she was so determined to hold back, after everything this monster had done. “You and I both know that. And any other valuable information about her, they can take from what’s left of her when they get here. See what she’s really made of.”

There was a silence for a moment. Shepard’s head turned slowly, looking back at Nika again who was rolling to one side, pressing her shoulder into the ground. It seemed that she was making an effort to fix her dislocated arm, for all the good that was going to do her. For that long moment, he could sense Shepard considering it. He imagined willing the spirits to unite her to his cause, to his vengeful desires. 

“Yeah,” Nika said looking over at Shepard with a sly grin. “They’d take me all apart. Just like they did to Momma.”

Garrus stared back down at Nika again, speechless, as the analytical center of his mind automatically began trying to make sense of her comment. _What?_

Shepard’s shotgun muzzle finally bolted up, taking square aim at Nika’s head as Shepard took a few long, wrathful strides in her direction. Her aim was so steadily locked on the younger woman’s face that it defied the rapid movement of her advancing strides. Nika was up on one elbow now, smiling brightly up at the barrel.

“I think I’m starting to see his point,” Shepard growled. “Any last words?”

“Shepard,” Nika cried out in a pathetic plea. Her face took on a look of terror, and she raised one arm up as though to beg for her life. Then she grinned. “ _Think fast._ ”

She clasped her hand into a fist and made a symbolic throwing action in Garrus’s direction, a bolt of blue shooting down her arm. Shepard’s head was spinning his way just as the heavy, repeated _booms_ of a shockwave thundered in his direction. He had only started to be able to react when one huge blast hit him square in the chest. His shields held under the force, but physics were still a thing, and so the sheer force of impact sent him sprawling back through the air.

Out over the cliffside. 

The tips of his talons scraped at the dirt and rock as he went over, the effort a futile exercise in desperation. He plummeted.

_No no no no no._

Down he went. Falling, _falling_ , sucking in a deep lungful of air as though that was going to be anything approaching enough to save him. He hit the water hard, and instantly the surface tension was swallowing him, rushing into his face. Up into his sinuses, down his throat, flooding into his airways. Turian faces were simply not built to keep excessive amounts of water out. He clenched down on his throat, thankful for having at the very least the capability to keep it from flowing into his trachea for a little while. Not long enough. His arms and legs pumped in wild, panicked climbing motions, trying to will his body to follow the few bubbles that rose up and away from him. But he only kept sinking. Down, down into the dark, seeming to go on forever.

_Definitely a bad way to go._


	38. Chapter 38

“I wonder what _his_ last words would’ve been.”

Shepard could hear Nika’s words distantly from behind her as she rapidly lunged across the several meters to the cliff edge completely on reflex. Falling back on experiences as a younger soldier training for her N1 in Brazil, she arced herself over the edge of the cliff face, aiming for the area of bubbling, disturbed water that was where Garrus had gone in. She penetrated down past the surface, unable to see more than a half meter ahead through the clouded, silt-laden water. Her sensors were telling her he wasn’t more than a couple of meters below, but he was sinking fast and she was going to need to double-time it to catch up.

She activated her biotic amplification, powering herself downward with everything she had and not concerning herself with holding back a reserve. Swimming in armor wasn’t easy, but her biotics plus the rapidly peaking spike of adrenaline coursing through her were compensating well enough. 

Finally a hand flailing through the water came into her view, maybe a dozen centimeters from her face. Garrus was struggling valiantly against gravity, stretching up for her in his distress. She surged downward in one more strong dive, and extended her arm as far out as she could to grab him. Her hand made purchase on his forearm on the first try, his solid grip clenching down tight on her wrist in turn, threatening to pull her down with him. Shepard reacted in an instant, functioning on pure muscle memory, nimbly looping in a quick circle to bring her head upward again..

She pumped her legs and free arm in several hard strokes, rushing them back up towards the surface. Garrus’ panicked attempts to aid in the rescue were hampering her movements at best, but she wasn’t about to begrudge him his survival instincts. Her own magnified strength and relative buoyancy were going to have to be enough for them both, as she had air and he didn’t. As they began to breach she ducked beneath his arm, pushing him through the surface. She kept him afloat as she propelled them towards the rock face with her kicks, giving Garrus something better to hang onto besides her as he coughed and sputtered the water out of his head and throat. She pulled herself up on the cliff after him, looking upward. They could scale the cliff, but Garrus would need time to recover his breathing and even at her fastest, this climb would take her at least a few minutes. That wasn’t time they had.

“You’re not going to like this,” she warned him. She’d have normally have checked with him first, to be sure he was okay with what she was about to do. But Nika was up there getting away, and with Garrus safe, she was the priority again.

“Whatever it is,” Garrus choked out through his shivering, “I don’t think it’ll be worse than _drowning_.” 

Shepard channelled up her energy, enveloping Garrus in a biotic field and without preamble slingshotted him up the rock face. He overshot the top of it by a few meters, but by the time he’d reached his maximum height, Shepard was already coming up fast behind him in a biotic charge. She caught him mid-air, putting enough spin on their collective axis that she’d insulate him from the fall, and they came down together. She was able to pull her barrier up just before impact, barely coming in under her cooldown. He rolled away from her onto his hands and knees, still coughing and gulping huge breaths of air. Shepard looked around frantically, and spotted Nika running off into the distance. The shuttle that they’d predicted was coming for her was now inbound.

“Garrus?” she asked, making one last check that he was going to be all right.

“Go,” he waved a hand at her, still wheezing but starting to climb to his knees and reaching for where his rifle had landed on the grass. “I’m right behind you.”

Shepard thumped his pauldron one last time, then turned. Her eyes narrowed on Nika. The younger woman was running on a limp, and still within reach. It was almost pitiful. She flared to life, and _charged_ that megalomaniacal piece of crap.

Nika sent a look over her shoulder just in time to see Shepard starting her attack, and pulled up her barrier at the last possible instant. When Shepard hit her, she stumbled back, her protective layer absorbing most of the impact. Nika’s face contorted in a wrathful grimace as she staggered backward a few steps, raising her busted-ass assault rifle.

“They were coming to take you on Mindoir, you know,” she snapped bitterly. “Cerberus. But that Alliance soldier got to you, first. That’s the only reason they even needed her corpse.”

“That’s why they made you instead?” Shepard snorted. “I guess that makes you the off-brand.”

“Fuck all the way off!” Nika retorted, voice shrill, her unbalanced smirk taking over her face. “You wish you were _half_ of what I am. Y’know, actually, I guess you _are_ half of what I am.”

Shepard squared up on her, fists out to her sides. The novelty impact of the smack-talk was wearing off. Shepard was over it, and beyond ready to finally cut loose and show Nika what she could do when she wasn’t having to hold back. Shepard peered past Nika to the shuttle that was just beginning to set down. She had to presume the proverbial cavalry was inside.

“You know, for all your bluster about how superior you are, you seem awfully reluctant to actually _fight me_.”

“You think so?” Nika lit up with dark energy, waves of it coming off her like blue flames. “Or maybe I just think you’re beneath me. This really what you want? To find out the tr-”

Shepard collided into Nika like a mag-lev freight engine before she could finish her monologue. It was as good of confirmation as any to Shepard that Nika was ninety percent talk. The other ten percent was pure insanity.

In a literal flash Nika was coming back with a charge of her own, but Shepard was ready. She dodged out of the way, turning as she did so she was facing Nika with a grin when the other woman’s field dropped again. In a fit of frustration Nika came at her again, and Shepard pulled the same tactic. The best thing about facing someone with abilities just like hers, was she knew precisely how to deal with them. With each fruitless pass, Nika was growing more enraged at being stymied. She was also using up a lot more of her own biotic energy, and while her reservoir may be deep, she couldn’t go on forever. 

“You said you wanted a fight, candy-ass!” Nika seethed, eyes wild and sweat-dampened hair matted against her face.

“Still waiting for you to give me one!” Shepard snarked back, and Nika roared a scream, charging again. Exactly as Shepard had expected.

This time, Shepard charged in return, aiming herself directly at Nika. The two of them collided with a massive, thrumming _boom_ in the middle of the open plain. Their dark energy fields fought it out, two irresistible fields of blue-white force, lighting up the world all around them in an eye-blistering intensity. The ground started to vibrate, dirt and rocks lifting up all around them, floating through the air in response to the mess the two were making of the laws of physics. Then all at once the threshold was reached, and their collective field exploded, flinging them both backward from one another. Shepard tumbled through the detritus falling down all around her, and pulled up her shotgun with the intent to take advantage of Nika’s potential vulnerability. Then the shooting began, an assault coming in from the direction of the shuttle.

Shepard threw up a biotic shield against the incoming gunfire, only to have Nika smash into her again from a flanking position as she did. Shepard recovered quickly and wedged herself behind a fallen boulder to avoid the woman’s follow-up assault rifle attack. Off in the distance, the explosively loud reports of sniper fire told her that Garrus was back in the game and on approach, focusing the attackers from the shuttle on himself. Shepard started to come back out from behind the rock, but Nika was behind her. And in an instant, Shepard was in the air. She brought up her barrier, knowing exactly what was about to happen. She knew, because she’d seen the result of what had happened to Kyeros.

Shepard couldn’t get a good visual bearing, with as fast as the world was moving around her, but she felt herself being smashed into the ground and thrown into the air again, and again, and again, each time coming down in the same spot, sending thick clouds of dust into the air with each hit. Biotic slams, and Nika was unloading a barrage of them all in a row. Shepard thought she counted at least six impacts, dropping and then reactivating her barrier in between each.

Shepard had to concede that Nika, for all her flaws, could deliver a hell of a beating. What Nika hadn’t been the least prepared for, however, was how well Shepard could _take_ a hell of a beating. It was disorienting, being flung into the air and whipped back down again repeatedly. But defensive biotics were easier to maintain, less of a draw than a full-on attack, so the dizziness was arguably the worst of what Nika was accomplishing against Shepard in her unrelenting attacks. Nika had the biotic equivalent of a sledgehammer, and just about as much nuance in using it. But Shepard had a whole goddamn armory, as well as the tactical knowledge to back it up.

The world stopped spinning again, and Shepard was in a crater. She lifted herself to her feet, giving her head a moment to clear as the dust around her started to fall. Nika stood at the edge of the crater, her look of unbridled rage only growing more unhinged as she saw Shepard still generally unharmed.

“You done yet?” Shepard smirked. “Get that all out of your system?”

“Just fucking _die_ already, you bitch!” Nika shrieked through bared teeth and spittle.

“You could try not being too inept to kill me.”

Nika bellowed again, preparing another attack. It took her a bit more effort to do this time, wincing painfully as she brought up a field. The strain was starting to finally wear on her, the opening Shepard had been waiting for. She scooped up a palm-sized rock and charged it with a warp field, hurling it at Nika. The other woman’s arm came up to block it with her gauntlet’s fist. Then Shepard targeted not Nika, but the warped stone, with a fractional version of the same throw she’d used on Garrus.

The stone exploded from the sudden intensity of conflicting, imbalanced fields. Right in Nika’s face. Her energy field fulminated away, and Shepard was already charging at her.

As she connected, the time dilation slowing everything in the world beyond, she drew up her shotgun and fired a round directly at Nika’s gut. She watched as the spreading shot moved in nearly slow-motion, gaining speed as the dark energy began to dissipate. The pellets were hitting their target as she pulled the trigger again, riding the recoil to guide her aim higher this time, at her center mass. The second shot appeared to connect right on the tail end of the first, as time resumed its normal speed once again. Nika was shrieking and falling back as blood spurted through the new, tiny holes in her armor, but Shepard wasn’t done yet. Nika had taught her well how unwise it would be to go half-measure against her.

Shepard redoubled her already-replenished barrier, but not for its own sake. Most people understood that barriers could be self-detonated in a pinch for an offensive effect, but fewer knew that the force of it could be taken even further. It was the same ability she’d been planning on using on Kyeros, a skill she’d been hesitant to employ because of the utterly devastating force it unleashed when she used it. It was a relatively uncommon biotic technique that took an awful lot of patience and discipline to master, and Nika possessed neither. The detonation was so forceful that it had been nicknamed a ‘nova’ by her instructors.

The explosion rocketed five meters out from her in all directions, and Nika had been just over a meter in front of her. The younger woman was blasted away into the air at breakneck speed, coming crashing down in a floppy heap. Shepard strode up to her, keeping her shotgun level with the woman’s head as the defeated biotic groaned and cursed in agony.

“How’s that superiority complex working out for you?” Shepard panted, raising her brows and tilting her head. She glanced up as Garrus approached her, unable to help but notice the exploded-out mess he’d made of the shuttle while she’d been busy with Nika. She beamed at him with pride as he sidled up next to her, then returned her attention to the mewling pile of impotent rage at her feet.

“Looks like you messed with the wrong turian,” Shepard smirked down at Nika.

“I was going to say something like that,” Garrus’s mandibles twitched. “But I think I like it better coming from you.”

“Kill me already so I don’t have to keep listening to this shit,” Nika groaned into the dirt under her face.

Garrus cast Shepard a sidelong look. “She _did_ ask.”

“Death’s too good for you,” Shepard replied, sneering. “We’re going to find a nice, dark hole to put you in until you learn how to-”

“Step back,” a cool alto commanded. “I’ll take it from here.”

Shepard knew the voice before she turned to see the face. Vasir. She kept her muzzle trained right where she’d had it and didn’t move. Her peripheral caught Garrus subtly moving his own barrel in Vasir’s general direction.

“Go to hell,” Shepard retorted. “She’s going down, and taking you with her.”

“Listen to you talking like you have any kind of idea what’s going on,” Vasir shook her head. “I said step. Back.”

“Not happening,” Shepard growled. “You don’t have any kind of leverage here, especially not with other Spectres on the way. I think they’re going to want to hear _everything_ she has to say, and I get the feeling she’s not going to have a problem selling you out.”

“Especially Rix,” Garrus conceded. “After what she did to him.”

“You idiots think _I’m_ the one who got the jump on Rix?” Nika started to cough hoarsely through the blood bubbling out of her lungs, her eyes turning to Vasir. “Do you-”

Vasir’s pistol cracked. A tiny hole appeared dead center on Nika’s forehead and her head jerked back. Her eyes rolled back, her entire form slumping lifelessly. Shepard spun and trained her gun on Vasir, Garrus following suit.

“Really not helping your case,” Shepard snapped. “Killing the prime witness against you. "

“Against me?” Vasir arched a brow. “I don’t know about you, but all I heard was the desperate ravings of a madwoman.”

“A madwoman who was also the candidate you were supposed to make a Spectre. Whoever’s pulling your strings sure isn’t going to be happy about what you just did to their investment.”

“Please,” Vasir paced slowly in a circle around the body, “It was always going to end like this for her. You all can have the credit, by the way. I just wanted the satisfaction.”

“Why do all of this, then?” Shepard demanded. “Why let her have the run of the place? Steal data? Hurt people?”

“Because Thessia has undeclared Prothean technology,” Garrus interjected, bringing a fiery grimace to Vasir’s face and a shocked look to Shepard’s. “Probably just like the other Council race governments. And I’m willing to bet you’ll do just about anything to keep that information buried.”

“You can’t even fathom the reality of it,” Vasir growled in response. “You think what’s happening to the Hierarchy right now is bad? Imagine an all-out galactic civil war. Every species fighting for control of the Citadel. That’s what’s going to happen if I don't do everything in my power to stop it. I’m doing this for exactly the same reason I became a Spectre- to protect the galaxy. You don’t have to like my methods, but don’t you dare question my motives.”

“Right,” Shepard snorted in sarcasm. “It’s just your overwhelming altruism that you attacked another Spectre and unleashed your psychotic little mascot on Kyeros.”

“If a few people have to die in furtherance of collective peace, so be it,” Vasir sneered. “That’s your problem, Shepard. You think you know what it means to be a Spectre, that you have what it actually takes? You don’t have a damn clue. There’s no room here for your idealistic, save-everyone delusions. You don’t have the guts to make the hard choices.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Shepard replied in a darkening tone. “Maybe I need to learn how to be more like you, willing to sacrifice others for the greater good.”

“Whatever you decide, Shepard,” Garrus rasped low into her ear, a hunger for justice heavy in his voice, “I’m with you.”

Vasir had tensed, carefully taking up a stance in preparation for any possible attack. Taking on a Spectre wouldn’t be easy, even with the two of them. Vasir was fresh, and both Shepard and Garrus had each recently faced a tough fight. But she knew she’d take the asari on if she thought it was what needed to be done.

Shepard had to give it a decent internal deliberation. It seemed like the right course of action, to root out apparent corruption from the Spectres. Even if Vasir was telling the truth, even if her horrible actions were well-intentioned, she’d gone too far. But, if she was telling the truth _and_ was right about the consequences on the galaxy, then killing or even outing her may well bring about a calamity that could kill trillions. Shepard could easily prevent that, by letting one single wrongdoer go. The mere thought of it made her physically ill. _Hard choices._

The sound of an engine moving through the air announced the incoming shuttle from the Academy. She was out of time to deliberate. Shepard bit the inside of her cheek hard and lowered her weapon.

“The minute,” Shepard growled, “The _second_ I think you’re acting for your own selfish interests against the people you’re supposed to protect, Vasir? I’m coming for you.”

Vasir snorted a laugh, the tension slowly oozing out of her. “You’re welcome to try, any day.”


	39. Chapter 39

Garrus couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

He’d been of the assumption that they were about to take Vasir on, right up until she’d unexpectedly capitulated. It didn’t make sense. He and Shepard had just taken Nika down on their own, proving beyond any measure of doubt in him that they at the very least had decent odds against Vasir. The obvious next move was to follow the chain of command up a step, and that meant only one thing. But Shepard had stood down, somehow swayed by Vasir’s reasoning. 

Not Garrus. He’d heard countless rationalizations from perps before about why they’d done what they did, he wasn’t about to buy it now from the asari in front of them. He couldn’t fathom why Shepard was. The adrenaline spike that had hit him and was going unresolved was turning into a dull, throbbing ache in the back of his head.

“Shepard,” he urged, his eyes finding the incoming shuttle, the veritable coup de grace in the conflict Garrus wasn’t ready to let go of yet. There was still a little time to decide this. “Even if her motives check out, she crossed the line a long time ago. She has this coming.”

“Which line would that be?” Vasir demanded. “Don’t act like I don’t know all about your little stunt back on the Presidium after you quit C-Sec, Vakarian. Every Spectre here does. If you’re going to pretend you hold some kid of principles I violated, make sure you’re not being a damned hypocrite.”

He wavered back, not having the wherewithal to reply to that. As little as he liked having it thrown in his face, she did make a minor, compelling point. He couldn’t say what he’d have been willing to do if it meant saving the entire galaxy. He did know that hurting innocent people, or knowingly allowing harm to come to them, was off the table. Not so for Vasir, by all accounts. And that meant…

“I expect there’s some manner of explanation here.” Kryik’s voice was stern, but calm. He was approaching with Maerun not far behind. Garrus had hoped Rix would have been present as well; presumably he was handling the fallout of however things had gone back at the Academy.

There was indeed an explanation. And Shepard was potentially going to be angry with him again if he said as much, but as much as he admired her for her leadership, he couldn’t just stand back and let this go. It wasn’t as though the other Spectres didn’t already likely suspect everything he was going to tell them. 

“Are you getting that much worse at parsing out the evidence on your own?” Vasir sighed. “Clearly these candidates took down their peer who went rogue. And you wonder why I keep saying it’s high time for you to retire, Kryik.”

“Or maybe he just doesn’t trust you,” Garrus interjected, to Vasir’s deep scowl. He looked away from her, turning his face to the other Spectres. He noticed Shepard tensing in his peripheral, nothing to be helped now. “And for good reason. Kryik, she’s the one who-”

“Was to handle the situation with Temaru,” Maerun interrupted him, eyes fixed on Vasir.

“Not terribly well, evidently,” Kryik added with a pointed stare at the corpse. 

“I’m sure you’d have done a much better job,” Vasir shot back, “going by how wonderfully you’ve handled everything else.”

“They were working together,” Garrus insisted over Shepard’s sharp inhalation. “She-”

“Let you believe that as long as I needed you to,” the asari spoke loudly over him, stalking a few long strides in his direction. “Just like I let Temaru believe she was getting away with her piss-poor attempts at espionage.”

“We were aware of her attempts at uploading data offworld,” Maerun concurred. “They were all intercepted and redirected without difficulty.”

Now that was a setback he hadn’t seen coming. But Garrus wasn’t remotely done; he hadn’t even gotten to his best ammunition yet. He exchanged a terse look with Shepard, feeling the faintest wisp of regret, but she made no attempt or gesture to dissuade him from continuing. If anything, she looked to be paying close attention to how everyone was reacting to his words.

“I’m going to guess you weren’t aware that she was the one who attacked Rix, and allowed or possibly even ordered Temaru to kill Kyeros Quillan to cover her tracks after he figured her out.”

“After every deceptive thing Temaru ever said or did,” Vasir’s eyes were deadly slits, “you still believe that?”

“I believe she used the truth when it suited her,” Garrus growled back. 

“She also lied when it suited her. Goddess, Kryik, he’s almost as bad as you when it comes to uninformed presumptions.”

Kryik’s eyes finally lifted from the body, moving from Shepard to Garrus in turn. His eyes unfocused a moment, going deep into thought, before he looked back to Vasir once again.

“Would I be correct in assuming that based on the exceptional performance of these candidates today, which you personally were witness to, that you’ll be withdrawing your objection to their respective nominations?”

The two of them were glaring deeply into one another’s faces, each scanning the other for some subliminal giveaway through their stalemate. Garrus didn’t have the context of their long acquaintance with one another to fully understand what was going on, but something was off. Kryik had not only basically ignored what the younger man had said, but completely changed the subject as though his concerns didn’t matter at all. Vasir didn’t look any more pleased than Garrus did about the out-of-nowhere question, either, but eventually her expression settled into calm resignation.

“That would be a reasonable assumption,” Vasir’s near whisper dripped with poison.

“Sir-” Garrus started to say, but the other turian held up a finger, silencing him.

“Then we’re done here,” Kryik said without moving his intense stare from Vasir. “Thank you, Spectre Vasir, for your invaluable help.”

He turned and directed a pair of armored turians from the shuttle to collect Temaru’s body, while Vasir sulked away towards the shuttle. Maerun watched Kryik for a moment before following her. Finally the senior Spectre turned to them, specifically Shepard.

“Quite the trick,” he observed softly. “To make an entrance wound from a shotgun or sniper rifle look like one from a pistol.”

There was a long pause as he watched the body being hauled away, and Garrus understood then. Kryik did in fact know exactly what was going on, or most of it. A few things suddenly made a lot more sense in retrospect, and he was taken aback by the laissez-faire reaction of the Spectre to his colleague’s act of betrayal.

“You’re just going to let this go?” Shepard asked Kryik. Garrus mused a little bitterly that her question seemed out of place, as she’d been planning on letting it go, herself. Although, to her credit, there was far less she could have done about the situation than Kryik.

“I’m going to do what needs to be done,” the older man replied in near monotone. The utmost Spectre cliche, one that Garrus wouldn’t have disagreed with until right about this moment.

“She attacked another Spectre,” Garrus challenged. “At best, she sat by while people were getting hurt. At worst she was the one making those calls herself. She needs to face justice.”

Kryik blinked slowly, turning his head in Garrus’ direction. “Even should that justice bring with it unintended, cascading consequences that will affect the lives of trillions?”

“You know,” Shepard spoke as an accusation, “don’t you? You’re completely aware that someone’s got her over a barrel.”

“I do now, yes,” he corrected her, “as of relatively recently. And when we have a moment to speak somewhere more privately, I’m sure that the two of you will be able to confirm many more of my suspicions. But we have much larger problems to be concerned with. The important thing now is that Vasir’s opposition won’t be an issue any longer.”

“Sir,” Garrus’s hands pumped a few clenches. He wasn’t ready to relinquish himself to the idea of being someone who would willingly let a criminal go, and didn’t readily accept the insinuation that doing so was actually going to benefit some kind of greater good. “I’d gladly give up my nomination if it meant Vasir getting what’s coming to her.”

“Vakarian, even if we were to pursue this, it is not an issue that could or will be resolved quickly, nor likely in a way that is particularly pleasing to you. This isn’t black and white. Few matters are, for a Spectre. You’ll need to find a way to reconcile yourself with that, unless you genuinely intend to surrender your nomination.”

It was one of his worst nightmares, manifesting to life. Stymied justice, burying the misdeeds of criminals based on technicalities. Except instead of rules and bureaucracy being the driving force at work, it was now politics and the interpersonal games between free agents who each had their own personal agendas. Lives were still going to be caught in the crossfire. People were going to be hurt that shouldn’t be. That was the life of a Spectre. The thing he’d always wanted, or at least the fantasy he’d built up in his head around it. Now he was seeing through to the reality of it for the first time, and it made him ill.

It didn’t help that his unconscious mind decided to further betray him by conjuring up a mental image of his father’s patented ‘I told you so’ expression.

“Understood, sir,” he replied with morose reluctance. Kryik and Shepard spoke for another moment, but Garrus was no longer listening, instead staring out over the field toward the lake that had very nearly claimed his life. Would have, if it hadn’t been for Shepard, at any rate. She’d more than made them even, what with him having shown up too late to a situation that had not proven to be as deadly for her as he’d feared it would be. Shepard was made for this, she’d be a hell of a Spectre.

He wasn’t so sure anymore about himself.

\-----

Garrus looked up as Shepard entered through his door. Her expression wasn’t easy to read, but it didn’t look like a good mood. He walked from his bedroom to meet her, carrying the potted bundle in his hands that he’d picked up earlier. She blinked and looked up at him and the flowers in abject surprise. He’d found a few different lists on the extranet that suggested very different apparent meanings of different Earth flowers, and he could only hope he’d chosen the right ones to indicate an apology of sorts, or regret. Hyacinth, they were called. They’d had been hard enough to find out here on Cyone, so perhaps the effort would be meaningful enough. They were violet and smelled nice, anyway.

“What’s this about?”

“Saw them and thought of you,” he kind-of sort-of lied. But as long as he needed to get used to being willing to do wrong things with right intentions, he might as well start small. “Hope they’re all right.”

“Awfully sweet of you,” Shepard replied, approaching him and slipping her arms around his waist. He happily reciprocated, noting her willingness to share physical affection with him. The day prior had been exceedingly eventful and she’d pleaded needing a long, solid rest, and they’d gone their separate ways. It had hit him a bit harder than he’d have liked, as though only a few nights spent next to her had been enough to be used to it and to long for her in her absence. Not a great sign for what the future held in store for him. One more point to help shore up the resolve for what he needed to say.

Shepard took the flowers and looked up at him, a small half-smile creeping to her mouth as she did, one brow lifting higher than the other.

“Granted, sometimes they’re a preemptive sign that someone messed up and is trying to get an apology out in front of it, though.”

“Ah,” he replied awkwardly, clearing his throat. She was nothing if not sharp. “Well. There may have been this whole thing yesterday where I willfully defied your lead. I wasn’t sure if or how that was going to affect things between us.”

“Garrus,” Shepard gave a short sigh. “I’m not your commanding officer. Sometimes we’re going to disagree on how to handle things. You’re not just some ‘yes’ man, and I appreciate the hell out of that. Especially in this case, where things didn’t turn out how either of us expected them to.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Garrus exhaled in relief before sucking in another uncertain breath. “How’d everything go with Nihlus?” 

“Well enough,” she sighed. She pulled away from him, taking the hyacinth into the kitchenette and running some water into the pot before setting it on the counter. “Sounds like everything is sorted with the Council. I guess Vasir’s sudden change of heart helped. And it turns out most of the Spectres here already had their nominees picked out, not just Kryik and Rix, and how well the attack on the Academy was handled only made them more sure of their choices. So, it looks like we’re going to have a short hiatus and then skip right to ‘graduation’.”

Garrus froze. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Shepard grinned at him. It was the most genuinely happy he’d seen her look...well, maybe ever. Her grin was wide enough to crinkle the skin to the sides of her eyes. “I was thinking we should get the group together to celebrate. Get everyone caught up and talk about everything going forward.”

“Sounds good,” he agreed, mind still numbly reeling as reality set in. He’d thought he’d at least have a little more time to consider what he’d been thinking about. Shepard slowly sauntered towards him, stopping close to him and running one hand fondly down his arm. A common turian gesture of affection that she must have picked up on.

“Congrats, Spectre,” she said in a warm, bittersweet tone.

Garrus looked down at his feet, then back up at her. He very suddenly didn’t want to have this conversation, didn’t feel as prepared for it as when he thought it would be a more hypothetical discussion. But he needed to. “Actually, Shepard. That’s...something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Shepard frowned. “What do you mean?”

Garrus’ heart started scaling up the sides of his throat. “I’m...pretty sure the next time I speak to Rix, I’m going to turn down the nomination.”

He pictured himself handing Rix back his rifle, and his stomach lurched in response.

Shepard hastily pulled back from him, her frown deepening. “What? Why?”

“Thing is,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “when I came here, it was mostly about proving I could cut it. To myself, and...others. And now I know for sure that I can. But I also know now that you and I, we’re really good together. I do my best work when you and I are cooperating. As a partnership, a team. So. That’s why I’d rather be on yours.”

Her wide eyes blinked at him a few times, and the deep quiet that she allowed to hang between them grew exponentially more uncomfortable with every passing second. He was sure he’d done a fairly good job of making his case, considering his usual luck communicating in important personal matters. But the longer he had to bask in her stunned silence, the less sure of that he was. Shepard finally took a long breath, then started to shake her head. 

“No, Garrus.”

“Shepard,” he replied, insistent. He moved in close to her, sliding his hands around her sides and pulling her against him. A very forward gesture he wouldn’t have tried if he hadn’t felt as strongly as he did at this moment, both about her and about what he was saying. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this. The other day, and everything that led up to it, taking down our first target together- it was all incredible. We work well together. Really well. And I want that, with you.”

Shepard’s hands rested against his chest, and she was quiet for several moments longer than Garrus could feel comfortable with. She heaved a breath, lifting a hand to his face that was a lot less comforting than she must have meant it to be.

“Yeah, Garrus. We do work well together. And we’ll continue to. As a pair of the galaxy’s best Spectres.”

Garrus’ grip on her tightened ever so slightly, his heart pounding hard in his ears. “Let me choose this, Shepard. Please.”

Shepard pulled his head down, touching her forehead to his. He nuzzled into her with vigor, wishing he could use the action to will her to change her mind. It didn’t help his conundrum that being on her team would also mean getting to actually be with her, instead of them having to steal whatever scraps of time together they could. Never knowing when, or if, he was going to have another chance to wake up next to her again. She lowered her head, pressing her face against him.

“Listen,” Shepard was talking into his chest now, the sounds of a voice that didn’t quite match what he heard reverberating into his plates. In return, she had to have been able to hear his heart thrumming anxiously under her cheek. “Right now, the galaxy needs people like us to step up. Things are already starting to really go to hell out there. They need us- both of us- at our best. If that means we have to sacrifice a little to do that, then that’s what we do. But that won’t stop me from doing everything I can in my power to make sure we can hang on to this, even through the storm we’re charging into. I promise.”

There she went, being a better turian than he was. Putting duty first. But he did find her words...inspiring, as they very often were. And she was probably right, again.

“That,” Shepard craned her neck to peer up at him again, “and there’s a non-zero chance that you could end up regretting not becoming a Spectre when you could. Even if you were still eligible to try again later, I doubt they’d be really happy with you for turning it down once already.”

Garrus sighed out through his nostrils, the air making the few wisps of hair at the top of her head dance. “We could have a bit of a philosophical debate about that, but. Well. I’ll give it some more thought.”

Shepard smirked, deviousness in the expression. “Would it help the process any if I said that I’m not letting you so much as set foot on my ship if you aren’t a Spectre?”

Garrus’ brow plates furrowed, then raised. “You already have a ship lined up?”

“You could say the Alliance is a little enthused about getting their first Spectre,” Shepard pulled back from him, holding onto his hands. “I hear it's a state-of-the-art stealth recon ship. A collaboration between the Alliance and the Hierarchy, if you can believe it.”

Garrus thought he may have recalled hearing about something like that, but no, in fact, hadn’t really believed it at the time. It hadn’t made sense to him back then that humans would be up to the task of matching Hierarchy technological advancements. One more old, preconceived notion that Shepard was making swift work of. Now, it not only struck him as perfectly plausible, but terribly fitting that his people and hers had come together to create the ship that would be carrying her through the stars.

“Huh,” he replied, a small smile coming to him despite himself. “Well. In that case, you make a compelling point."


	40. Chapter 40

Shepard raised her glass, to the motley band before her, getting a dozen raised back at her in rowdy response. They were yet again gathered in the upstairs meeting room of the old-fashioned pub, as had seemed most fitting. The memories from back in the jungle were far less pleasant.

“To us!” she beamed. For such a loosely, haphazardly formed collective, the bonds they’d been forming were looking solid. Shepard would have taken any of them aboard her ship if she had had the opportunity.

“Proto-Spectres!” Welod added in elaboration to her generic toast. “And our mooks!” The group shared a tittering laugh, Barati especially as she gently elbowed him. Of the lot of them, six were incipient Spectres, and the rest were the future squad members for four of those six. Welod, predictably, had been nominated and immediately installed Barati as his right hand companion, with Janen rounding out their core crew. Tegeres and his twin were another inevitable pair. Both Kandros and Leyene would be working with Ryssa, their newest ‘member’ who had ended up being Vasir’s final pick after the dust had settled.

Shepard herself had approached Alenko not long after her nomination had been confirmed, all but certain he’d accept her offer. He’d been elated by it, though mitigated by some measure of self-doubt. It had taken a little bit to convince him that she fully meant it, and that she wasn’t simply settling for him based on their brief history. Besides being a legitimately capable soldier, Alenko made for a hell of a good sanity check. And he was going to understand better than anyone else everything she’d gone through to get here. It was a good, strategic choice if nothing else, and there was plenty of ‘else.’

Senairis was an outlier, not having yet given any true indication of whether she even intended to form herself a team, though Shepard still appreciated her attending their informal celebration. The occasional flat, cold stare she got from the turian woman told her the feeling wasn’t likely mutual. Garrus had given her a basic rundown of that situation that explained the mild animosity. Shepard couldn’t blame her; Garrus was a damn catch.

Garrus. He was quieter than most everyone else tonight. He sat hunched forward in a chair just to her right, sipping gingerly at a beer. He’d been more than a little withdrawn since their last conversation, and that by itself had almost been enough to push her to reconsider her decision. But she had plenty of good justifications to retreat back to when that happened. Sitting by while he threw away his shot at a well-earned opportunity would only set them both up for failure. She’d seen far more relationships go wrong than right, and she had come to a good place in being able to recognize those red flags. She wasn’t interested in going along with him making a decision where the ultimate consequence could be that he’d end up resenting her for it. It was far too much pressure to put on a budding relationship like that, and would strip him of the status and opportunities he deserved. Maybe permanently. She hadn’t said most of that to him, of course. He might have been able to argue her out of her perspective if she had, and he didn’t need to know that was ever a possibility.

Garrus didn’t yet have any future squad members lined up, either, and hadn’t made mention to her of whether he’d even asked anyone. Shepard acknowledged to herself that by now with all the rest of their group spoken for, he would either need to branch out to other reserve candidates that he was less familiar with, or start looking outside Academy attendees. In Shepard’s opinion, the whole process would be good for him, giving him a change to actually hone the leadership abilities she saw in him that he didn’t yet see in himself.

“Vakarian!” Teg shouted above the clamor. “That reminds me! We still need to hear aaalllll about the smackdown you two gave the little psychotic biotic!”

Shepard and Garrus exchanged a look, and in one corner of her vision she caught Ryssa’s face lifting and fixating in the direction of the two of them. When Shepard met the woman’s eyes their expression was flat, unreadable. There was a quiet intensity behind them that could have been anxiety, or supreme interest. 

Ryssa was another enigma. She was one of the more powerful biotics here, to be certain, but Shepard hadn’t ever gotten particularly strong ‘Spectre material’ vibes from her. She had given off more of an impression of a timid uncertainty for much of the most recent weeks, though none of that was visible tonight. Now she was still quiet, but abjectly alert, and constantly analyzing the interactions going on around her. Giving small, polite smiles as everyone else was boisterously laughing and shooting the shit. Much of that could be chalked up to the relief stemming from the absence of Nika’s crushing, vitriolic presence, but it felt in Shepard’s gut as though there was something  _ else _ . Or it could simply be that Shepard was beyond trusting anything whatsoever that Vasir did.

“It wasn’t as exciting as you’d think,” Garrus demurred. Shepard was vaguely taken aback at the downplay, though the way he said it sounded more motivated by humility than deception. “She ran, not fast enough, and then went down pretty quickly. Shepard took care of it for the most part, anyway.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she offered a wan smile. “ _ You _ took a hoverbike out from under her while going a couple hundred klicks an hour, then soloed a whole shuttle and the small army it brought along with it.”

“True, but I’m guessing that the spectacle the two of you were making was too big a distraction for them to ignore. Wasn’t really a fair fight.”

“And none of it would have been possible without the rest of these magnificent bastards!” Shepard forced a grin and raised her glass again, garnering another round of cheers especially from those who were several drinks in already. Ryssa continued to watch her, silently inscrutable. 

“We should set up a way to stay in contact,” Janen said, bringing up her omnitool. “I have a pretty solid dedicated comm encryption program we could use, if you want. Runs on quantum entanglement.”

“Yes, that,” Teg pointed in her direction. “That is a great idea. And we need like, a name for our little crew.”

“We’re not a crew,” Sen rebuffed him.

“Maybe  _ you’re  _ not-” Teg started, but was silenced quickly by others talking over him to make name suggestions. Everyone was getting used to the various interpersonal dynamics at work, it seemed, especially the more antagonistic of them. A consensus on a name or whether they should bother with one was not reached, the ongoing application of alcohol notwithstanding. But Shepard departed back to the compound that evening feeling good, and that was something significant. Garrus had ridden back with her, resolute in his silent contemplation, but had at least slipped his hand into hers for the duration of the drive.

Back at the residential buildings he finally broke the solid barrier of his quiet, putting a hand around her waist and moving in slow lockstep at her side.

“I talked to Spectre Rix,” he said. “About...everything. But you’ll be glad to know I formally accepted the nomination.”

“I am,” she agreed, leaning her head into his arm. “I can’t think of a more deserving person.”

“Well. There’s you.” His voice didn’t raise to the level of contentment that hers did, and he squeezed her waist gently.

“Let’s settle on equally deserving, then,” she replied, trying to emphasize a light playfulness in her small smile. He was quiet for a few long seconds, the light summery breeze blowing through the few small gaps between their bodies.

“Four months,” he sighed. “Then...who knows.”

“ _ You _ know. It’s like I told you, we’re both going to do everything we can to make this work. Right?”

“Yeah,” he said without sounding like he meant it. “It’s just...things can always go wrong. It doesn’t have to be anything that’s either of our faults. If the galaxy is truly careening towards, say, an all out civil war, then-”

“Then we work  _ harder _ ,” Shepard insisted, stopping them short of her building. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been leading them there, or that he’d reflexively gone along with her direction. She glanced at the door and tried smiling again, even faintly. “You wanna come up?”

“Of course I do,” he whispered back, reaching up and touching her face with the backs of his fingers. “If the next few days are all the time together we’re going to have for a while, then I’d like to spend it all with you. If that’s all right.”

“That sounds perfect,” Shepard agreed. She wasn’t any more excited for them to be separated than he was, even if she was a little better at hiding it. They could both use the impromptu vacation, however long it ended up being. Even Nihlus hadn’t given her a precise time frame for when everything would be wrapped up, though it had sounded clear that it wouldn’t be anywhere near the rest of the full four weeks or so they originally were meant to have. But it was something.

\-------

Garrus gazed down at Shepard’s sleeping form next to him for what was scheduled to be the last time for almost a quarter of a Palaveni year. He could have gotten used to this- except he wasn’t going to be able to. As though he should have expected any different, honestly. Go against your own desires and join C-Sec like dad wants you to? Okay, now he’s been murdered and Garrus couldn’t do anything to save him. Finally prove what he has to take to be a Spectre? Sure, but now that achievement feels like a consolation prize compared to meeting the perfect match both romantically and martially. He was starting to wonder if he really was the universe’s chew toy. 

He was going to pick himself up, dust himself off, and keep going. Of course he was. It wasn’t like he was being left much choice- it was that or mope in twice the amount of failure by leaving everything he’d gained for himself here behind. For the first time in ages, maybe ever, he wished he could speak to his father. To at least hear what he had to say, to get a good old boot to the backside from the old man like he clearly needed. Then again, he did still have one parent left.

Garrus carefully removed himself from under Shepard’s limp arm and made his way to the bathroom, the only place he could really have a few minutes to himself. He pulled up the messaging program on his omni-tool and checked his browser for Cipritine local time. It was late, but Mom might still be up. Even if not, it would help just to get his thoughts down. He started typing out a few sentences and then erased all but the opening greeting. Then did that a few more times before taking a long breath and giving himself a few minutes to think as he read over what he’d settled on.

**Hey, Mom. I got the nomination. I’m sure you’ll get an official notification in a few days, but I wanted you to hear it from me first. I don’t know how well we’ll be able to keep in contact once things get moving, so this may be the last you hear from me for a few months. It was really good to see you the other day. Really going to miss you. And Sol- mostly. Ha. Kidding.**

He stopped, tapping an idle talon against his knee. He raised his head and listened when he thought he heard movement outside the door, but the long silence that followed suggested he’d been hearing things. He heaved a sigh and sent the message, resolving to leave it at that for now. He decided to use the shower, even though Shepard’s human-style shower was wetter and didn’t get quite hot enough for his liking, and it took forever to try to dry himself with those big rectangular cloth things that stuck on his spines and the more angular corners of his plates. He didn’t know why humans didn’t just employ a proper air dryer. Well, there  _ was  _ a smaller, mobile version of one she used for her hair. He didn’t suppose she’d mind if he used that on himself instead.

It was quicker than the fibrous cloth sheets, at least. He was roughly half done when his omni-tool pinged. He opened the message to see to his surprise that Mom was awake, after all.

**I’m so proud of you, and I know Sol will be. I never doubted you for a moment. You might not believe it, but I think your father would have been, too. Even if he refused to admit it. He was never the best at expressing how he really felt, but his objections to you becoming a Spectre were because he cared about you. Worried about you. He loved you, Garrus. We all do.**

His breath hitched as he read the message, his throat tightening. His chest spasmed a few times in shaky, involuntary hyperventilations. Turians didn’t shed tears like humans did, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have their own form of crying. He waited until he’d calmed a bit before writing back. She was right in that he wasn’t quite able to fully believe what she was saying about his father, that it might have been her way of looking at the past with a more idealistic filter. But he did believe that she believed it, and she’d lived with the man for the better part of forty years all told. Well. Known him for those years. Away from him for the majority.

Garrus started forcing his fingers to type through the emotional hyperloop rampaging through his head.

**That means a lot. I know this is coming out of nowhere, but I wanted to ask you something. How did you do it? How did you and Dad manage to keep things working while having to be apart from each other?**

The next wait was only around seven minutes, but felt so much longer.

**I admit it wasn’t easy. There were fights you never heard, moments of weakness on both our ends. When I learned we were expecting Sol, I told him I couldn’t do fifteen more years of this. He didn’t respond other than to offer me a formal mateship termination. To my endless shame, I almost took him up on it. But in the end I decided I needed to stay, and fight** **_for_ ** **us. We worked it out, together. A relationship isn’t all that different from war, Garrus. You fight each battle together, you cover for one another’s weaknesses. And when you can’t fight together, you fight until you can get back to one another. You succeed the same way you win the war- by never giving up. By refusing to surrender to fear. By fixing your eyes on the horizon and continuing to move forward no matter what.**

He digested that for a while, reading it multiple times until the emotional impact had fully settled in. The resolute confidence in her words was coming even after her own war had been lost. She clearly didn’t regret a thing, even having experienced the worst. And she was right. He’d been focusing too much on the worst possible outcomes rather than what he could do about them. He wasn’t going to be able to be with Shepard always, or even most of the time, but he  _ had  _ her. She had been more than clear on that. All he needed to do was make sure she’d always have him.

**Thanks, Mom. Take care. I’ll do the same. You should get some sleep. Hopefully the next time we get together I can explain things a little more.**

When he emerged, Shepard was awake and making coffee in the kitchenette. After a much-needed brief engagement of physical affection, she started to fix herself a cup while explaining her own recent spate of messages with her Captain.

“I’ll have about a week to get all of my worldly possessions packed up and moved on board, then Nihlus will be joining us once we reach the Citadel. It’s going to be a generally human crew at the start, though time will tell from there. How about you?”

Garrus shifted. “The Hierarchy is getting things lined up for all of us who made it in. They have the routine down pretty well, as I understand it, which is good because I haven’t gotten much out of them about how it will all be going down. I’m fairly sure we’re going to all be starting out right from Palaven.”

He glanced down as his message program pinged.

**Oh, don’t worry. Sol already told me all about it. I figured you’d let me know when you were ready.**

Garrus stared at his omni-tool for a moment trying to decide what method of punishment he was going to mete out on his sister the next time he saw her. Certainly there was going to be a threatening message involved, declaring to her that he wasn’t the least bit afraid to abuse his power as a Spectre to mess with her for the rest of her life. 

“Everything okay?” Shepard asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “As well as it can be, anyway.”

There was a long silence that would have been far more awkward if they didn’t spend the whole thing pressed together. He imagined drawing from her the strength he was going to soon need to leave her side.

“Hey,” she said, pulling away from him just enough to look up at him as she talked. He took her hand and pressed it to his face as she did. He wanted to immortalize in his brain exactly how it felt, then maybe he could dream about it from time to time. “So, I spoke to Janen about getting us set up with a dedicated comm. Like the one for the whole group, but just for the two of us. We’ll still be able to keep in close contact even when we’re apart.”

Garrus ran his fingers over her strands. “I can handle that,” he almost smiled. And he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to read!


End file.
